


Living Dead

by YoungBloodSins



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Inspired by The Returned by Seth Patrick, M/M, Major Character Injury, Returned from death, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-02-15 07:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungBloodSins/pseuds/YoungBloodSins
Summary: When someone dies, you never expect them to come back until you die yourself. But what if one day the dead come back to life?





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing this series on Wattpad and for the life of me I can't figure out how to italicize stuff on here, so you have to bear with thoughts being 'like this' instead of italicizing. I'll go in and fix it once I find out how, I promise.

There were days better than others and that's what Ryan was sure of. But today was one of those bad day when he couldn't find out a single damn thing right in the world. He threw money on the small coffee table in payment for Elizabeth's time, yet didn't say a word as he started to step out of the small second-floor room.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out this time," The blonde girl apologized as she picked up the money and started counting it. Honestly, she didn't care how much money was there. It was Ryan. A person she's been seeing now for four years and even though they weren't dating nor nearly acquaintances, she still cared about his well-being even if he didn't feel the same towards her. What they had was a sex-filled, no friendship or relationship set-up. Ryan still had in his mind that it would one day make things better.

Five years and still nothing was better.

There was always going to be that hole in Ryan's heart, and he thought of this as he walked down the rickety stairs to the bar where he saw Dallon Weekes sit. A man who had lost his wife in the same place he had lost his fiance in. He tried rushing out, but Dallon grabbed his arm way too quickly and held him in place. "I thought you said you were giving up with her," Dallon noted, tone bitter; it didn't match his facial expression. 

Ryan shrugged in disinterest. He wanted to get to the support group on time so he didn't have to listen to whatever lecture Dallon was about to give him. But none came as Dallon let Ryan's arm go. No other words were shared as Ryan rushed out of the bar and to his car.

Fire burned in his mind. Even after five years, Dallon was still faithful to Breezy and maybe because it was their two children. Or maybe he thought no one could fill Breezy's place. That made complete sense in Ryan's mind, but not for himself.

Brendon was his fiance. A beautiful boy with tanned skin, puppy brown eyes, plump lips, and was pretty skinny despite working out to try and gain muscle. Ryan, at first, didn't want to move on, but the lonely nights laying in bed alone with no one beside him became too much. He felt like he was cheating on Brendon, but his bitter and drunken thoughts always reminded him his once beautiful fiance was now six-feet underground and dead. 

Ryan pressed his head against the steering wheel, letting out shaky breaths as he tried not to cry. He remembered the phone call from Brendon's parents that night. How he heard Grace Urie sobbing in the background as Boyd Urie told Ryan how Brendon was killed. He remembered every little detail as he threw the phone and screamed and sobbed and let everything out.

Nothing felt real that night and sometimes Ryan's mental state would get the best of him and make him believe it was all a horrible dream. Brendon wasn't dead. He wasn't killed in that shooting. He never even went in the first place. Right?

Wrong. He had gone and Ryan knew that even if his mental state tried telling him otherwise, mostly on those nights where he would get so drunk out of his mind on whatever he could find and then start having hallucinations of his once fiance walking around the kitchen making himself a bowl of cereal at three in the morning like he did almost every night. But when Ryan would go forward and test the boundaries of this hallucination's existence, it would disappear. 

_Get your mind out of the storm clouds, Ryan. You have a support group._ Ryan reminded himself dully. 

He hated support group. He didn't necessarily hate the people there, but he hated how happy they'd become while he, on the other hand, had remained a miserable, drunken, mentally broken mess. Five years had passed and, sure, it had gotten a little better, but there was still a voice in Ryan's heart that only Brendon had filled and now the young man was gone and buried in a grave. 

He drove the way there, music blasting so it wouldn't give him any room to think about Brendon anymore. He didn't want to think of the man's face as he drove because he was afraid of another hallucination appearing either in his passenger's seat, singing along to AC/DC or out on the road getting ready to get hit by Ryan's car. Both were horrible hallucinations Ryan didn't want. 

The building had the same amount of cars it usually did every Friday night, but one or two cars seemed to be missing. A lot of people who had suffered from the attack by losing a family member had moved away, not being able to stay in Summerlin anymore. Ryan couldn't blame them and he had even thought of moving away once before himself.

But he couldn't leave. Brendon's family was still in the town and he wouldn't leave if they wouldn't leave. 

Ryan took the key out of the ignition and then slipped out of his car.

 _Welcome to hell._ His mind told him as he opened the front door.


	2. 2

Ryan knew instantly when he walked through the threshold that he was late from the way everyone was already sitting in a circle on the carpet that looked and smelled like it came from a grandmother's house in the 1920's. Eyes were on him as he shut the door, making the man uncomfortable. 

"Okay, everyone stop looking at Ryan," The support group leader, Patrick, said to everyone and then smiled at Ryan apologetically. "Grab a seat Ryan. There's a chair in between William and Ray."

There was a soft mumble of talking within the circle, some people still glancing over at Ryan in curiosity or annoyance over the fact he was late - like always. Ryan always made up some sort of excuse to why he was late if someone were to ask, but today he honestly didn't feel up to it so he was just going to tell the truth if someone, in fact, did ask. 

But Patrick droned on about usual things. The same things that Ryan has heard over a million times over the course of the five years he's been in this group. He only spoke up when spoken to, but even then sometimes he'd stay quiet and just watch everyone else talk. It didn't bother Ryan that he didn't talk much during these meetings because he simply had nothing to say. He was a lot, broken and confused mess who drank every single day and four times a week would go see Elizabeth at the bar or she would go over to Ryan's and they'd smoke some weed and fuck. 

Even if it left Ryan feeling empty in the end, the company was nice. Even when he'd slip up and accidentally call Elizabeth, "Brendon." She never questioned it or corrected him through the years of his accidental weekly slip-ups. 

"You all remember Miss Williams, correct?" Patrick said, gesturing to the girl with creamy orange colored hair who was holding a clipboard against her chest as if it were a shield. Ryan surely remembered her, but he didn't go along with the chorus of "Yes" or "Hi Miss Williams." Instead, he bluntly nodded and huffed softly, gaining William's attention as he gave the man a side glance. Just like Ryan, William had lost his fiance. His name was Gabe Saporta and their wedding was only a few days after the shooting had happened. If Ryan still felt sorry for anyone, it would be William Beckett.

Miss Williams (or Haley, since Ryan hated calling her "Miss Williams) started droning on about the plans for the memorial they were setting up for the victims of the shooting. Ryan thought it was bullshit, whatever this plan was. William didn't even seem really pleased with the plan, but didn't say a word about it as he, instead, picked at his fingers absentmindedly.

"Any questions?" Patrick asked, smiling brightly and he started looking around for any hands to appear. Ryan then raised his hand, giving an almost bitter smile to the short blonde. Patrick's smile slightly faded and he pointed at Ryan. 

Ryan straightened himself in his seat an leaned forward. "I do have a question. It's been five years since this has happened. And do you really think the people left in this town that were affected by this madness really wants to drive by a memorial every day reminding them of what happened to their family, friends, or loved ones?"

Patrick sighed softly and said just loudly enough for them to hear, "Ryan, we talked about this last time and you had the same argument about it. It takes a long time to get these things planned. And the rest of us think it's a beautiful idea to honor the ones we lost." Slight tears welled in his eyes. Ryan knew who Patrick lost. He was very known in the town. Pete Wentz. They were divorced, but had remained best friends because even though they didn't have romantic feelings, they were still inseparable as best friends.

"Last time I was saying it was ridiculous. Now I'm saying it's stupid. There's a difference," Ryan muttered coldly. He leaned back in his head. He didn't want to be reminded day after day about Brendon's death - or anybody's death, to be frank. 

The lights suddenly went out, mutual annoyed groans filling the air. "Did Ryan's ego make the power go out in here?" Ray joked, trying not to sound bitter and failing miserably at it. Ryan shot a glare at Ray through the dark, not being able to see him that well.

Ryan stood and walked to the window, staring out. "The whole town is out," He called back to Patrick who let out another sigh as he walked to Ryan's side to look out the window. "Well, I guess we'll just have to wait for the power to come back on." He turned away and sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and looked over at William who Ryan could faintly see. 

About forty minutes had passed before the power turned back on and mumbles filled the room again, talking about the power outage. Patrick's smile returned and then Lyn-Z Way smiled and looked at Patrick who nodded at her. "Well, we have some good news," She said and grabbed Gerard's hand. Everyone looked at her, almost everyone eager to hear (except Ryan who didn't seem to care). "Gerard and I are having a baby!" 

Everyone grinned and congratulated them, walking over and giving them hugs. Even William stood to offer his congrats. Ryan stayed put, though. Sure, he was happy for them, but he was also upset. They were growing back to normal after Mikey, Gerard's brother, had been killed, but Ryan didn't get that luxury of coming back. 

He stood without a word and left the building. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one with shaky hands, not being able to think straight. He felt almost calm as he inhaled the smoke at last and took out his phone, humming to a song he barely even knew the words of. He pressed the contact and pressed the ear to his phone.

"Ryan, it's almost late," A tired voice came through the phone. Ryan gained a tiny, almost fake, smile as the voice came through. 

"Almost, yeah. You're still up though, Spin," Ryan pointed out as he took another hit of the cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He made a mental note that Spencer hated him smoking, so he dropped the cigarette and stomped it out almost reluctantly. "Wanna hang out tomorrow? Go to the bar?"

A scoff came through. "What? Not going to see Elizabeth tomorrow?" Ryan winced at the cold tone in Spencer's voice, but didn't let it fully get to him. Sure, Spencer was like his brother, but he wouldn't let the disappointment in harsh tone in his voice get to him. 

Ryan shook his head, despite knowing Spencer couldn't even see the gesture. "Nah, I wanna hang out with you and Jon tomorrow. We could go get drinks, go to dinner, see a movie - whatever you'd like."

There was silence, as if Spencer was thinking. It was either an excuse to get out of it or he was looking at Jon and they were communicating through their eyes. The second option disturbed Ryan because he's seen them do it a lot. "We can hang out tomorrow. We can go to dinner and see a movie, but no drinking. God, no drinking..."

There was a protest starting in the back of Ryan's mind, but he reasoned with himself, saying he'd just drink after he hung out with them and maybe even do a combination of drinking while smoking a blunt. "Yeah, that's fine. See you tomorrow." He then hung up, not allowing Spencer to say another word.

I need to get this stress off. Ryan thought and then pressed another contact.

**Ryan: Want to come over and smoke some weed?**

**Z-berg: sure. c u in 20 ;)**


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weed and sex (but I was too lazy to write smut, sorry)

Weed was a good scent to Ryan. As much as he preferred pipes over blunts, sharing a blunt with Elizabeth wasn't so bad. A random movie played on the TV as they handed the blunt back and forth. Ryan was in some sort of blissful high state an he wasn't planning on getting down any time soon. 

Another thing he remembered was to put a pack of condoms in the beside table in case at the end of the night they decided to fuck. Who knew with them? Not even Ryan was sure. 

Ryan looked at Elizabeth who was scanning the photos on the mantel that were pressed down into the wood so the photos were hidden from sight. Ryan nearly winced, remembering how after Brendon's funeral, he did that as fresh tears rolled down his paled cheeks. He was hoping maybe not seeing Brendon's face would help his sorrows, but nothing had helped. Not Elizabeth who he had casual sex with, not alcohol or getting drunk, not weed, not even sleeping. For the first two years, every dream would be about Brendon. 

Most were about the shooting that had happened. Most were either Brendon dying or him demanding why he didn't make him stay home. For those two years, Ryan only slept two to four hours each night and prayed it'd be enough. But then they had stopped.

"Those pictures..." Elizabeth started, slowly looking back at Ryan who had tears slowly rolling down his slightly red cheeks. "Are they of him?" She whispered, asking cautiously, afraid Ryan would possibly flip out at her. But nothing came.

Ryan only nodded, a grim look on his face. He reached forward far too quickly for his pipe, putting some weed in it before lighting it and taking a hit. The high sensation didn't take away his pain. "Yes... But I don't want to talk about it, so don't even fucking try," He warned. Elizabeth only nodded, not seeming scared of Ryan. 

But Ryan was right. Soon they were kissing and it turned into making out which turned into Ryan picking her up and carrying her into his bedroom.

Throughout it, Ryan's mind was racing. He knew he was being a bit too rough, but anger was filling him. Anger, sadness, and regret. But once he was done, he pulled out and rolled over, staring at the ceiling with his arm placed against his forehead. "I'm so sorry, Brendon..." He whispered into the empty air.

~+~+~+~

Elizabeth had left with only a goodbye, leaving Ryan alone sitting in bed smoking once again out of his pipe. He had turned on his record player, putting a Beatles vinyl on and just enjoying the tunes that flowed and bounced off the walls. 

Memories flooded in his mind of the times he and Brendon would dance to every album they owned on vinyl and would dance around their room until they had danced through every album. Or, if it was that one time, when Brendon hit his ankle against the corner of the entertainment center and was crying that he broke it even though it was just a tiny bruise. 

A sad smile formed on Ryan's lips as he remembered it. 

His phone started to buzz loudly on the bedside table, making Ryan open his bloodshot eyes in annoyance. "Who the hell is calling me?" He muttered to himself out loud despite being alone in the room. He extended his arm and groped for his phone until his nimble fingers wrapped around it, reeling it in so he could see who was calling. "Mrs. Urie" was on the screen in white lettering, making Ryan's eyebrows furrowed before he picked up.

"Ryan!" Mrs. Urie's voice whispered into the phone.

"Umm...hey, Mrs. Urie?" Ryan knew his voice sounded confused, but that's exactly what he was. Confused. "What did you need?"

Mrs. Urie sounded almost panicked as she spoke. "You have to hurry over. This is really urgent." Ryan had several questions in that moment. The number one question was if she had taken her medicine or not, but Mr. Urie probably had made sure she had.

Ryan leaned against the headboard. "What is it Mrs. Urie?" He sounded slightly amused as he asked the question. 

She breathed shakily and then whispered, "Just...just please come over... It's Brendon..."

Ryan felt his heart stop at the mention of his name, his breathing quickening as he whispered, "Brendon...?" She didn't respond as his eyes went over to the record player still playing. He sat up and got off the bed. "I'll be right over."


	4. 4

_Five Years Ago_

For days, Spencer's had it on his mind. The dreams were becoming night terrors in his head as he slept so he just didn't sleep at all. He couldn't even remember the dreams when he woke up and a part of him was glad of it. 

He sat on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around his narrow frame as he heard Jon walking in the kitchen making potato soup which was Spencer's favorite. Spencer didn't ask for Jon to take care of him instead of going to work, but he insisted from the way Spencer's face was as pale as a ghost and the fact as soon as he woke up he made a run for it to the bathroom.

"You know, you could've gone to work," Spencer called to Jon. He wasn't expecting a response because he knew Jon was stubborn. If Spencer was sick, he'd call in sick to work just to take care of him. It was because he obviously cared about the younger boy. Spencer sighed, almost in annoyance, to Jon not answering, but he didn't say another word.

Only minutes later, Jon walked in with a bowl full of soup and sat on the table before handing it to Spencer. "Here, babe," Jon said, smiling gently. Spencer took it carefully, using a blanket-covered hand to cradle the soup as he gently spooned it into his mouth. Jon smiled gently and then leaned closer to the edge. "Are you going to tell me what these night terrors are about now? This is literally the twenty-seventh one. Almost a month."

Spencer didn't know what to say. He was afraid of Jon thinking he was lying if he told him he just couldn't remember them. But deep down he knew Jon wasn't like that. They told everything to each other and never lied. "I don't remember them," Spencer whispered, looking at Jon who just smiled in a supportive way and leaned forward to rub the boy's knee soothingly.

"That's okay," Jon quietly said and then stood to sit down next to Spencer. "Let's watch something on TV and get you to start feeling better."

~+~+~+~

"I'm so excited to preform in a few days!" Brendon squealed in excitement, sitting in Ryan's lap as he wiggled in pure happiness. Ryan was grinning so widely. A grin Spencer never thought he'd ever see out of the older man, but there it was.

Ryan laughed softly and rubbed Brendon's thigh. "I'm so proud of you, you know?" He whispered into the smaller boy's ear, making Brendon giggle and lean back into Ryan's chest to connect their lips into a sweet and tender kiss - which easily turned into them making out.

"Get a room," Spencer groaned, rolling his eyes at the two, leaning into Jon who had his arm around him. His eyes instantly connected with Ryan's, an evil smirk across the older's face. Spencer gave the normal bitch-face he did when he was losing his patience.

"Are you two going to come to soundcheck?" Brendon asked the two on the opposite coach, bouncing up and down in Ryan's lap. A grin was wide on his face as he asked.

Jon nodded and laughed. "We plan to. To help set up and to hear your soundcheck." Brendon immediately started clapping his hands, grinning so widely Spencer thought his mouth was going to split open.

~+~+~+~

Spencer couldn't stop moving as he slept, fear twisting in his face as he jerked a little to his left, immediately waking Jon up. Jon groaned a little and looked at his partner. He frowned at the sight and slowly sat up, shaking Spencer. "Spin, wake up," He whispered. When that didn't work, he grabbed both of the boy's shoulders and started shaking him a bit harsher. "Spencer, wake up!"

A gasp filled the air and Spencer's eyes opened, releasing tears down his face and revealing bloodshot eyes. "We can't go and we can't let Brendon go..."

Jon looked confused, frowning. "What...? Spencer, what the hell are you talking about?" He knew Spencer had episodes like these and "superstitions" about things happening, but he sometimes wasn't right. "Honey, did you have another nightmare?"

Frustration filled Spencer, but he just gripped his hair has more tears left his eyes. He couldn't get a perfect sentence out, his whole body filled with dread because the memories of the horrid dream lingered in his mind. "Pl-please...don't go..." He managed to get out, his chest feeling tight from anxiety and pure fear. Jon looked puzzled as he watched Spencer, unsure of what he exactly meant. It frustrated Spencer further. "B-Brendon's...soundcheck... We can't let...him go..."

"Spencer, you can't let these dreams scare you that badly..." Jon whispered, gently rubbing Spencer's arm. Spencer felt angry, wanting to slap Jon's had away, but he couldn't find the will to. He knew Jon meant well, but he wanted him to listen and to understand. 

Spencer sat up too quickly, his vision blurring and instantly becoming dizzy, but he ignored it for the most part. "You're not listening!" He shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. "Please..." He lowered his voice to a whisper, looking desperate as he grabbed Jon's hands, pulling them against his own chest. "Please don't go... Don't let Brendon go... Something...bad will happen... Please..."

Jon sighed, gently pulling his hands from Spencer's grip to pull him into a hug which the younger just accepted without a fight. "I won't go...but it's Brendon's soundcheck...and I doubt your dream will happen in real life, Spin. The last few didn't. You have to trust me, okay? You're just nervous and paranoid something bad will happen because you don't want something bad to happen to us. But if it will make you feel any safer, I'll stay home with you. But we can't stop Brendon from going. You're just going to have to trust me that nothing will go wrong."

Silence filled the room as Spencer weighed his options. He finally wrapped his arms around Jon to hug him back, but unease filled him. "Okay..." He finally whispered, "I'll trust you on this...because I love you..."

~+~+~+~

His mind wouldn't ease. It had been a long morning and afternoon and he swore he was about to burst into tears at any moment. He could hear Jon making a snack in the kitchen as he cooed at their cat, Clover. 

Spencer wanted to trust Jon, but in his gut he could tell something would happen. He didn't talk about it again, though, in fear he might make Jon mad or upset or just something that Spencer would feel absolutely guilty for. But his eyes kept glancing at the clock. Soundcheck would be over soon and then his mind would be put to ease, but how slow time was moving was making him more paranoid.

"You doing okay in there?" Jon called to him, it breaking Spencer out of his paranoid, fearful thoughts.

"Y-yeah!" Spencer called, back, scratching the back of his neck a bit too forcefully. The thought that the phone would ring any moment creating a storm cloud in his brain. He leaned back against the couch, trying to take deep, even breaths. 

But the phone started ringing.

 _No... No no no no no... Please no..._ Spencer's mind races as he gripped onto his knees. He heard Jon pick up the phone and begin talking...

Then silence...

Spencer was practically shrieking in his head, begging Jon to say something good.

But nothing of the sort came.

Jon walked in without the phone, face as pale as a ghost, tears running down his face as he whispered, "I should've believed you..."


	5. 5

Ryan wasn't even paying attention how fast he was driving at that point. It was a little past four in the morning and no one was on the road which was a good thing. Always a good thing.

He wasn't sure why Mrs. Urie called, but he knew it was something about Brendon which meant he definitely cared. In the back of his mind, he thought it was just the usual. Her looking through photo albums or old home videos and then seeing her deceased son standing there, or dancing around and singing his art out to old Disney tunes.

Ryan understood that perfectly.

When he pulled up to the house, Mrs. Urie and Mr. Urie were standing outside, despair written all over their faces as Ryan pulled his key out of the ignition and got out of the car. "Hey, what's going on?" He asked, running up to the front porch.

"He's inside..." Mrs. Urie said before turning around and heading inside without another word, Mr. Urie following wordlessly.

In that moment, all Ryan knew was how fucking confused he was. What did they mean he was inside? He was dead! And then he could've sworn his eyes were deceiving him as he saw the brown-haired boy laying on the couch, snoring softly as he was curled up with a blanket as Aladdin played quietly. His eyes went back to Brendon's parents. "No... Don't be this cruel..." He whispered. "This isn't real..."

Mrs. Urie was biting her fingernails in distress. "That's what I thought too, Ryan... But he just showed up, ate a whole bowl of Fruit Loops and then passed out on the couch..." She looked into Ryan's honey brown eyes, tears filling her own chocolate browns. "He said he couldn't remember anything after soundcheck happened and he was very confused...but then he just said he was probably so excited he forgot... Ryan, that day was five years ago!"

Ryan could feel his heart pounding against his ribs as his eyes wandered back to Brendon. "This...is totally impossible..." He walked quickly into the living room, Mr. and Mrs. Urie following.

"Don't wake him!" Mr. Urie almost demanded in a whisper, seeming very stern. But Ryan had no intent to wake him up. He just wanted to look at him; observe the sleeping boy who was apparently his lover and fiance, Brendon Urie, himself. He felt tears well in his eyes, but he didn't believe this was true. He was afraid of waking up in his bed, having all this in front of him just be a dream instead of reality. 

But he didn't wake up.

But he did.

Brendon's eyes opened, his chocolate puppy eyes trying to focus. "Mom...?" He whispered, to which Mrs. Urie rushed over and quickly covered him more with the blanket and started asking what was wrong and if he was okay. Brendon let out a tiny giggle. "I'm fine, Mo-" He stopped as his eyes finally focused on Ryan. "Ry-bear!" He squealed and sat up quickly that at first Ryan thought it gave him whiplash. Within seconds, Brendon was pulling Ryan to him for a hug, his legs locking around the older's narrow waist. 

Ryan was in shock. People coming back from the dead definitely wasn't normal. Not in the least bit. "Hey, Bren," He whispered, his heart still pounding fiercely against his ribs. He immediately noticed how cold Brendon's skin felt, but ignored it and hugged Brendon back. "I missed you."

A muffled giggle came from Brendon as he buried his head in Ryan's shoulder. "It's only been a couple of hours," He said, moving his eyes to look at Ryan. 

"Right..." Ryan whispered. In his mind, he was hoping those five years had been a dream all along and that Brendon was still alive. The shooting never happened and that Brendon and the others were still alive. That's all Ryan needed - for it to be a dream. "You should get some more sleep." He pulled away from the hug. "Do you want me to take you home?"

A grin lit up on Brendon's face. "I'd love to come home."

"Ryan..." Mrs. Urie said, warningly. "Can...we talk in the kitchen?" Without confirmation to her request, she turned and walked to the kitchen, Mr. Urie following.

Brendon's face fell and he looked at Ryan in concern. Ryan just gave a reassuring smile and kissed the top of Brendon's head before nearly sauntering to the kitchen.

"You're going to take him home?" Mrs. Urie asked. "I haven't seen my son in five years, yet you expect us for you to let him take him back to your house?"

Ryan felt anger bubbling in his stomach. "Grace, I'm sorry, but Brendon apparently doesn't remember it's been five years or he died. He doesn't know! And not being able to go back to his house? Don't you think he'll get frustrated and demand to know why?" He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced back at Brendon who's eyes were glued to the TV screen. "He doesn't remember and I don't think right now is the perfect time to tell him." It wasn't just that, though. Ryan wanted to make sure that _was_ actually Brendon. A part of him was so reluctant to accept that this Brendon was actually him, but he also was very aware that if somehow this was him, he would be upset and restless if he couldn't get to go home.

Mrs. Urie looked hesitant, looking at Mr. Urie for reassurance that he would back her up, but he just sighed and muttered, "Grace, Ryan's right. Brendon doesn't remember being killed and he still believes that it's five years ago. Let's let him go home with Ryan and we'll figure the rest out later. It's late." 

There was tension in the room Ryan couldn't ignore. He glanced back at Brendon who was now looking at them with concern and fear. Ryan couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through his head. I mean, Ryan, himself, looked different from what he looked like five years ago. He grew up like people do. But there Brendon sat, looking exactly like he did five fucking years ago and Ryan couldn't fully wrap his mind around it. People just don't rise from the grave and come back to life like this. He obviously isn't a zombie and this isn't some damn movie or novel.

"Fine. Take him home and we'll talk about the rest later," Mrs. Urie concluded and pushed Ryan gently back into the living area.

Ryan walked back in, smiling softly at the confused man who looked ready to have a full-blown anxiety attack. "Hey, everything's fine. We can go home," He reassured him and gently ruffled Brendon's brown, slightly greasy, locks. Five years and somehow his hair couldn't create a grease pool? It made Ryan further confused, but he didn't question it at the moment.

"My legs hurt," Brendon whispered softly. "I sort of just...came to in the middle of the forest and then walked my way here since." Ryan was confused. He was expecting Brendon to say he woke up in a graveyard 6-feet under. But that wasn't the answer he got, leaving him wondering what the hell happened. 

But he had no time to ponder it. He smiled gently and picked Brendon up, blanket and all. "Don't worry, I'll carry you," He said smoothly, acting as if everything was normal even though it wasn't. He got Brendon in the car and then climbed into the drivers seat. His heart was pounding in his chest.

_This seriously cannot be happening..._


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I didn't get to update the chapters on here for awhile. I didn't have a properly working computer for how long so I never got the chance to keep track with Living Dead on here. If you want a more frequently updated version, it is on Wattpad under the same title and I have the same username on here and there, but I am going to be updating it with the few chapters I hadn't put on here yet. I am so sorry for the wait, but hopefully since I have a new computer now, it won't take me as much time to update.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!  
> ~S

Driving in the car was silent. Brendon didn't ask for the music to be on, he just fell asleep about three minutes into the car ride home. It left Ryan to ponder in his thoughts about what had happened. Maybe he got to high and is just having a weird hallucination - or even a dream! He passed out right after Elizabeth left and now he's dreaming and this is all just nothing. He'll wake up soon and Brendon won't be here.

His honey brown eyes looked over at Brendon almost curiously. He looked perfect. More perfect than when the embalmer fixed his body up, dressing him up in all white (because his parents thought "black was too depressing" and that Brendon would've preferred white to match his dazzling personality). He was wearing something simple. A plain navy blue shirt, black jeans with slight tears in the knees, plain black and white Converse sneakers, and a black hoodie. Something very different from the white suit he was buried in.

 _This can't be Brendon..._ Ryan thought, his eyes going back to the road. _There is just no way._

Despite his efforts to say it wasn't Brendon, Ryan was hoping it was him. He had gone five years of his life moping around and praying he'd even just die to be with Brendon again in whatever afterlife there may be. But here he was, still alive with an apparently alive Brendon sitting in the passengers seat beside him, passed out. And if this truly was Brendon, the love of his life and his fiance, then he would have no reason to go to the bar anymore. To see Elizabeth. To get drunk every night hoping somehow a time wormhole would suck him back to five year ago so he could save Brendon's life. He's had dreams he has, but every one he's woken up disappointed and depressed.

The house looks oddly brighter when he pulls into the driveway. It was like as if Brendon was a light in his life, making everything seem brighter. Like a light at the end of a road, illuminating the path ahead. But Ryan knew that last part was from Brendon's mind.

Ryan gently nudged the sleeping man. "Hey, Bren, we're home," He said gently, trying not to be too rough as if he were, Brendon would turn out to be a cloud of some-sort. But he didn't disappear. Instead, his chocolate brown eyes opened and he made a tiny grunting sound. It was almost shocking to Ryan, but he had to admit he felt relieved. "Babe, we're home," Ryan said, gently rubbing Brendon's shoulder. A bright smile appeared on the younger's face.

"Home!" He said, almost dreamily as he got out of the car. It was the first time Ryan noticed Brendon hadn't worn his seat belt, but he didn't want to lecture him. Not right now and probably not for awhile, if ever again. Brendon opened the front door, Ryan noting how he hadn't locked it before they left simply because he was in such a rush to leave. Brendon obviously didn't seem to notice. Ryan followed him in and the younger man looks around, looking confused and conflicted. He turns to look at Ryan. "Why does the house look and smell different?" He asked. Ryan stood there completely unsure of what to say.

"I don't smell anything different." It was all Ryan could offer, shrugging his shoulders and smiling so nervously Brendon could've noticed. "And you're probably just too tired, B. You should head to bed." A burst of anxiety filled Ryan's stomach. Did he really just invite his fiance who's been dead for five years to sleep in a bed him and a woman slept in only a few hours ago? Yes. Yes he did.

Brendon shrugged a little and started up the stairs. Ryan rushed after him. "Can I change the sheets before you sleep?" Ryan asked far too quickly. Brendon stopped in the middle of the staircase, looking confused as ever. "You deserve to sleep in a completely clean bed, B."

"I...guess...?" Brendon sounded hesitant and then made it into the bedroom. He walked in and scrunched his nose up. "It smells like weed and sex in here!" He exclaimed and then whined. "Ryan, you said you wouldn't jerk off or smoke weed when you're sick!"

Ryan had forgotten that the day Brendon was murdered he had been sick. In Brendon's mind, it was still five years ago, Ryan was still sick, and he was still apparently 25. But no, he was 30 and yet, Brendon was still 24. You can't age when you're dead. "Yeah...sorry. I just needed something to take the edge off, babe," He apologized promptly, giving a smile.

Brendon stared at Ryan as if he were thinking really hard, but without saying a word, he looked away. Ryan sighed quietly to himself and was quick to change the sheets from a dull grey to a light blue. "Weren't the sheets...ivory before I left for the show...?" He asked quietly. Ryan immediately felt a lump form in his throat, but he didn't provide an answer. "I must be losing it... Or maybe I'm just tired because, fuck, you're acting strange. And you look...different..."

"Different how?" Ryan asked, panic rising high in his chest.

There was silence for a minute, Brendon side-eyeing the older man before settling down on his side of the bed subconsciously. "Older?" It came out as more of a question than an actual answer. "I'm probably just tired, though. I mean...fuck...everything just looks different to me right now. And why the hell are you and my parents acting so goddamn weird? It's like you people haven't seen me in years!"

 _Because we haven't, Brendon..._ Ryan thought sadly to himself, but he didn't say it out loud. God, of course he didn't.

"Brendon, you're just exhausted," Ryan insisted. "It's been a long day. You need to get some more rest." There was a hesitance to his voice, but he was hoping Brendon wouldn't notice it. And he didn't. Brendon just sighed and laid down, staring at the ceiling before shimmying out of his jeans and carelessly throwing them to the ground.

Brendon looked over at Ryan. "Aren't you going to sleep with me?" He whispered, sounding anxious as he spoke. Ryan had the feeling he knew something was up, but just didn't want to discuss it this early in the morning. Good. Because Ryan didn't know if he could provide good answers that would satisfy Brendon, nor did he know if he could get the truth to leave his mouth. How do you easily tell something they were murdered and have been dead for five years? You can't, and that's what Ryan's problem was.

Ryan smiled almost apologetically. "I have something to do first," He said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. "It'll just take a few minutes, I promise." Brendon nodded and rolled over, almost instantly passing out. Ryan quickly walked out of the room and started fixing everything. Putting the pictures on the mantel back to their former glory and cleaning up all the messes he made. Luckily, he even had some of Brendon's favorite air fresheners.

As he cleaned, thoughts kept pooling in his mind. He knew these questions would overflow and would become a series of word vomit later and he would give everything up to Brendon, telling him the deepest and darkest things. Brendon had that affect on him, even if he hated to admit it. Brendon wanted him to admit it, Ryan knew that well. 

And even if Ryan wanted to so badly deny that the man up there wasn't Brendon, he had no proof it wasn't him. Memories were all correct, remembering the colors of the sheets five years ago, going to his side of the bed without having to even think about it. It just had to be him.

 _That's not possible though..._ Ryan thought and sat down on the couch, staring at the mantel. At all the pictures he had refused to look at for years now. _People don't just come back from the dead._

~+~+~+~

Despite wanting to sleep, he couldn't. He had laid beside his once dead fiance all night and just stared at him, still in disbelief that this was real. He was also afraid to sleep. Afraid to wake up to find out it all was just some cruel dream that made him believe Brendon actually came back. But yet, he was still laying peacefully in front of him, bundled in their blanket. Ryan couldn't perfectly pinpoint how this was happening. In fact, if he told anyone, no one would be able to pinpoint it, either.

Restlessly, Ryan got up and grabbed his cellphone from off the nightstand and headed into the music studio. The "Urielectric" sign still hung proudly over the desk where Brendon's equipment still stayed. Ryan never had the heart to touch this room or to change it, so it always stayed the same. They both had their own music studios. Urielectric and Ryan's studio that he never bothered to name unlike his better half who had thought of the name before the studio even existed; when they still lived in that shitty apartment that had flies, roaches, and countless spiders. That's one of the reason's Ryan loved him so much. He always had big dreams even if he doubted they'd come true.

Ryan dialed Spencer's number and pressed the phone against his ear. It was ten-thirty. He surely would be awake by now.

"Hello...?" Spencer's groggy voice came through the phone. Ryan was almost relieved to hear Spencer's voice, but he was still panicking. "Ryan, what do you need?"

A shaky sigh left Ryan's mouth as he looked up at the neon sign that was not lit up at the moment and then whispered, "I need you to come over right away." He knew he rushed a little while saying that sentence, but at least he got a coherent sentence out without having a full-blown anxiety attack. At the moment, it was just him and Brendon's parents who knew about Brendon's return and if anyone would be able to help, it would be Spencer. Son of a bitch was a psychic, so Ryan was sure he'd be able to see what had went wrong. 

"Ryan? Ryan, what's the matter?" Spencer asked, suddenly fully awake and Ryan was glad that got his attention.

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose and looked through the open studio door, seeing the bedroom and seeing Brendon slowly sitting up, calling out for Ryan. He let out a shaky breath and then got out, "It's about Brendon..."

There was silence for a moment, Ryan expecting Spencer to demand what the fuck was going on. But instead, Spencer rushed out, "I'll be right over."

Then the line went dead.


	7. 7

No questions were asked immediately when Jon woke up to see Spencer rushing around the room to get dressed. It was surely unusual since he would usually wake up to Spencer laying beside him, still completely naked after having a night of fun, but not this morning. This morning was fairly different from the others. "What are you doing?" Jon finally asked, highly confused.

Spencer squeaked and fell over onto his ass, obviously not expecting the other to be awake just yet. He looked over at Jon, scrambling to get up into his knees, at least. "I'm going over to Ryan's," He said, trying to keep his voice as even as he could. Spencer knew he should be rushing _quicker_ to see Ryan because for all he knew he was having an episode, but he just wasn't sure.

Jon looked confused, but didn't ask another question. Instead, he stood and calmly grabbed clothes out of the closet and got dressed. Spencer watched, chest heaving from the wind being knocked out of him. _Clumsy boy_. Jon thought to himself. "Get up."

Spencer stood fully. "You're not concerned?" He asked. For a minute, he easily forgot he didn't even tell Jon _why_ he was going to see Ryan. "Something about Brendon is going on."

Just like that, Jon froze. He looked back at the younger before cursing under his breath and heading out of the room while buttoning up his shirt. _This is going to be a long day._

~+~+~+~

Ryan felt like he was making it a bigger deal than it was, but Brendon was seriously sitting in their kitchen eating a bowl of Apple Jacks like everything five years ago just didn't happen.

"You look different," Brendon pointed out before spooning another spoonful of cereal and milk into his mouth.

"Yeah...about that..." Ryan started, but then the doorbell rung. Saved by the damn bell. He rushed out of the kitchen to the front door, nearly throwing it open to see Spencer and Jon. _If I look different, they'll definitely look different._

When Brendon died, they all looked completely different.

Spencer looked at Ryan, matching fear lingering in both of their eyes. "What the hell is going on?" Spencer demanded in a whisper, his eyes going over Ryan's shoulder to look at Brendon who was slowly walking over. Spencer's eyes widened before backing up a few tiny steps. "Holy shit holy shit holy shit _holy shit_."

Jon looked between Ryan and Brendon before looking at Ryan. "Ryan, don't fucking do this. This is _cruel_ ," He hissed.

Ryan looked back at Brendon who was slowly drawing closer, looking weary and scared. His eyes shot back to Jon. "I would never do something like that, Jon. That's him. This isn't a joke."

A protest was about to leave Jon's mouth, but Spencer quickly whispered, "Jon, he's telling the truth... That's actually Brendon..."

"What's... What's going on?" Brendon asked, voice shaky. "What the actual fuck is happening? Why are you... Fuck..."

"He doesn't know, does he?" Spencer asked, eyes still on Brendon. Ryan sighed and only offered a shake of his head. A huffed our sigh left Spencer's mouth as he pushed past Ryan.

Brendon looked Spencer up and down. "Spence...?" He whispered, his voice holding confusion and fear. "Is that... Is that you...?"

"We have to talk..." Ryan said, closing the door after letting Jon in. "But we're going to take you somewhere take talk." He looked at Brendon who looked like he was going to throw up and he felt guilty for it, but even if Brendon wasn't even back for twenty-four hours, he deserved to know that moment instead of being confused and left in the dark for days. And even if Ryan didn't want to tell him that moment, he knew Spencer and Jon wouldn't have it, and he was curious if Spencer could see how the hell Brendon possibly came back.

"Where are you going to take me?" Brendon asked, voice shaking a bit. "Please tell me what the fuck is going on, you're scaring me."

Ryan walked over to the younger and enveloped him in a hug. "You'll see. We'll explain everything you need to know, I promise." His voice came out hoarse and nervous - hesitant, even. "Just go get dressed and we'll get going.

~+~+~+~

Ryan remembered when Brendon ran to Ryan's house at the age of 18, some sort of "big news" was going to be shared. He had waited outside, expecting to see the beaten up purple minivan appear down the street and pull into his driveway. But, instead, he saw Brendon dashing down the street with a giant grin full of pure happiness and adrenaline on his face. Ryan could only laugh.

Brendon had rambled for nearly four hours about his record deal and how he wanted Ryan to help him write songs, even possibly be touring guitarist. He had agreed and hugged Brendon so tightly.

"Do you think one day I'll be as famous as Michael Jackson?" Brendon had asked right before the clouds rolled in to give Summerlin. His head turned and he grinned. "King of pop punk. I like the tone of that." He looked away from Ryan, eyes on the ceiling that had white paint chips coming off. Ryan immediately recalled the story of how Brendon ate a few paint chips at the age of two. His mother had caught him and rushed him to the hospital. Oh, what a weird child (and teenager) Brendon was.

"You should release your own music, Ry!" Brendon suddenly exclaimed, shifting completely to the side to look at Ryan. "You've written plenty of songs!"

Ryan laughed a little. Sure, he had written a few songs that could equal a full album or at least release a few and make an EP, at least, but he didn't know if he wanted his words out there. All of his songs meant something to him, even if it was just a few lyrics in a song to full-blown songs about a certain topic most people would not understand unless Ryan told them himself. He wasn't sure if he was ready for people - besides Brendon and Spencer - to see his songs and hear his lyrics.

"Meh. I don't really know. I doubt anyone would want to hear it," Ryan dismissed it with the wave of his hand.

A whine left Brendon's mouth and he huffed, but he didn't press further, knowing it could make Ryan irritated.

Yet, Ryan ended up giving his songs to Brendon to sing. Sure, he wanted to sing them himself, but Brendon's voice gave them a sort of life his voice couldn't accomplish. It gave it soul. It was something Ryan hadn't expected, but he was happy he had let Brendon use his songs in the long haul.

And Brendon always reminded everyone who wrote the songs in the first place.

~+~+~+~

He was shaking, scared shitless.

Amelie and Knox were at school, leaving him alone with her, pacing in his master bedroom as he heard movement in the kitchen. He had never meant for this to happen, yet it was _happening._

"Dallon?" Breezy's smooth voice called from downstairs. It made Dallon jump a little. "Are you coming downstairs?"

Dallon places his hand on the doorknob. _This is a mistake. I shouldn't have done this. They're going to come after me. They're going to kill me._ "I'll be down in a minute," He responded, throat becoming horribly dry with only a few simple words. He wondered if he could climb out the window and run away from Summerlin, but he knew it was no use. They'd find him. They always found people they were looking for.

He opened the door finally, heading downstairs quickly with swift movements. He got to the bottom of the staircase, looking over at her. Her back was turned to Dallon, long brown hair sweeper over her shoulders perfectly. A rock settled in Dallon's stomach.

She was a dirty little secret he was going to be brutally killed for, but deep down he knew it was worth it.

Or that's what he wanted to believe.

Breezy turned to look Dallon in the eyes. "You have to tell me at some point," She said, holding a knife in her hand. Dallon watched the tip of the blade as she pointed it at Dallon as if making a point. "You've been acting weird ever since I woke up in the car a few days ago. And I can't even see our own two children."

Guilt formed in Dallon's stomach, licking his dry, chapped lips. He slowly walked over to her and then looked her in the eyes.

"Breezy, you died... And I'm the idiot who found out the most horrible way to bring people back."


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Just so you know, Brendon's siblings are going to be making an appearance (or at least one or two), but I'll be changing their names. The only part of Brendon's family's names I didn't change are Grace and Boyd. Enjoy the chapter! ~S

William had a problem with sleeping anymore. Ever since Gabe had died five years ago, he just found it nearly impossible. He would lay in his bed, switching laying positions every few minutes and yet not fall asleep. He turned the TV on and then off, turned on music but got frustrated when no sleep came and turned it back off.

Five years with little sleep each night. William was surprised he had survived this way. He grabbed his phone that was charging on the bedside table and looked at it. Notification after notification of things he honestly couldn't care less about in that moment. He unlocked his phone, deciding to text Vicky.

**hey. you up?**

**Vicky-T: Yeah I'm up. What's up?**

**wanna hang out? i can't sleep.**

**Vicky-T: Sure! I'll be over in a minute Bilvy.**

William got up and got dressed, sighing at himself. It was nearly two in the morning, yet he just needed the company. Him, Gabe, and Vicky were close friends - thick as thieves, as people would say. Vicky was the only one he immediately let back into his life after Gabe had been killed.

There was a knock on the door, making William freeze where he was. _That was awfully quick..._ He thought and headed to the door. When he opened it, he froze, jaw falling open.

"Hey, Bilvy," Gabe greeted, grinning widely at him. William continued to stand there, gawking at him with wide, horrified eyes. Gabe looked confused, yet the grin never faded away. "Umm...are you alright?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

All William could manage to do was stutter incoherent sentences, looking panicked and alarmed. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or terrified.

Terrified was a safer bet.

"How the hell...?" William managed to get out. Gabe pushed past William into the house, looking around. _This has to be a hallucination! Gabe is dead!_

"I was only gone for a few hours and somehow you redecorated the living room? New couch? New photos?" Gabe seemed surprised, but a happy kind of surprised. He headed into the living room.

_Vicky will be here soon...and then this cruel hallucination will go away! That's what I get for smoking pot, yeah? God, let that be the reason..._

~+~+~+~

Elizabeth was heading home after leaving Ryan's house. Of course she had walked there. Despite hating how her feet ached, she needed to keep up her figure by exercising, which meant lots of walking.

She heard footsteps walking behind her. Her chest felt tight suddenly, her steps quickening. The steps behind her started speeding up as well. _Are they fucking following me?_

Suddenly she was against the wall, a sharp gasp leaving her mouth, eyes wide. Her eyes shot around, but the person following her wasn't even touching her. Their arm was out, being a good five feet away. Elizabeth's heart was racing hard in her chest, not understanding what was going on. How could she be pinned to the wall without this person touching her? It didn't make sense.

The person walked closer, eyes flashing a little. Brown. Brown eyes, she could see that. But terror filled this brown eyes instantly and his arm lowered, suddenly dashing off without another word.

Elizabeth dropped, head hitting the concrete hard. She could feel the warm blood pooling around her head. Why were those eyes so familiar? She thoughts, thoughts becoming blurry. She walked as the figure become smaller and smaller in the distance.

Then everything went black.

~+~+~+~

"What do you mean he's back?" Mark Urie asked, frowning at his parents in disbelief. "Mom, Dad...he _died five years ago_."

Mrs. Urie frowned and pulled out her phone and pulled up a photo, placing it on the table and pushing it to her oldest son. "That was taken yesterday. Mark, he _came home._ We don't know how, but our little boy - your _little brother_ \- came home early in the morning."

Mark looked unsure. "Then where the hell is he? Did he magically get up and leave?" He seemed impatient, tapping his foot against the tiled floor.

"Your mother called Ryan and he took your brother to his house," Mr. Urie stepped in, saying it shortly to Mark who scoffed and leaned back in his chair. "We'll get Ryan to bring him back so you can see him, but me, your mother, _and_ Ryan all saw him! We're not delusional, son."

Another scoff left Mark's mouth, but it was weakened by a lot. "All three of you have been having hallucinations of Brendon, Dad. Maybe from the want of him coming back got to all of your heads!"

"I'm calling Ryan. He will bring Brendon back here and you'll see him," Mrs. Urie almost snapped at her son, getting up and snatching her phone from the table and calling Ryan.

Mark sighed and stood, heading outside for a cigarette. He pulled one out, lighting it with shaky, unsure hands. The same unsure hands grabbed his phone from out of his pocket and dialed a number before pressing it gingerly to his ear.

"Hello?" A voice came through.

Mark breathed shakily and whispered, "Gray...you were right..."

"Right about what?"

Mark took a drag of the cigarette and stared up at he cloudless sky. "He's alive..."


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. I'm sorry it took so long for me to update this. And I'm sorry if it's super duper shitty. I had over half of it already written, but then I stopped because I am working on two big projects right now. A new series I am starting to write and also a one-shot that is over 19k words that I've been working on for almost over a year now. I'm hopefully going to get another chapter of Living Dead up tonight or tomorrow, hopefully since I've been procrastinating writing this. I am sorry if this chapter is shitty, I promise the next chapter will be better and hopefully longer than this one because the next chapter is going to be...a bit more intense. But, anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Again, sorry if it sucked.  
> Side note: I did not edit this chapter again because I'm feeling really lazy at the moment and I'm also really upset and don't feel like editing it. You know the drill and how I'm gonna be editing every chapter once the book is finished. So, yeah. Sorry. ~S

The cool breeze swept through the graveyard. Ryan stared helplessly at Brendon who looked smaller than usual as his fingers grazed the carved letters. He hadn't spoken for about half an hour and the three of them were watching him in silence, letting him process everything they had just told him.

"I'm still here," Brendon said quietly, his voice shaky and uneven. He glanced back at the three. "How the fuck did I come back if I died five years ago? And why now?"

"That's what we'd like to know, too," Ryan replied, hands shoved in his jeans pockets. "People don't just come crawling out of their graves."

"But he didn't just 'crawl out of his grave,'" Spencer muttered and looked at Ryan. "The grave is untouched. And I'm sure if we dug up the coffin and looked inside, his body wouldn't be in it."

Ryan stared at Spencer, gears turning in his head. "We should check," He said, voice rushed. "That's what we need to do! Check the grave!"

Brendon stood, a look of disbelief on his face. "You really think I'm not me?!" He demanded, sounding hurt. Ryan immediately stopped and stared at Brendon. "Fine. Dig up my fucking coffin if you really think I'm in there!" He stormed off out of the graveyard, not giving Ryan a chance to apologize.

"Niiiice going," Jon said, rolling his eyes. "I'll go after him. Be ready to _apologize._ He doesn't understand why he's alive, just like you don't. We're not digging up his fucking grave. I know it'll be a waste of time." With that, he left.

Ryan looked at Spencer who was staring blankly at the headstone. "What are you thinking about? What do you see?"

"He's actually alive Ryan. All I can see is that he is in a forest, running. He doesn't understand any more than you do," Spencer explained, sounding hesitant with his words. His dull icy eyes looked at Ryan. "I can't see how he came back. It's like something's...blocking it..."

"Blocking it?" Ryan questioned, raising an eyebrow. He looked past Spencer to where Brendon and Jon had run off to, silently wondering how the hell that could be happening.

His phone started buzzing in his pocket, carefully taking it out before answering. "Hello?"

"Ryan, you need to bring Brendon to the house immediately!" Mrs. Urie's voice came through the phone. Ryan stood there, dumbfounded. "Mark needs to see that Brendon is alive."

Ryan's eyes met with Spencer and alarm seemed to be present in the younger's icy blue eyes. Alarm meant whatever was going on wasn't good, but why? "I'll bring him over in a few, Mrs. Urie," He reassured her, pushing away the alarm Spencer blatantly felt as soon as he picked up the phone. "Just...be patient with me, please?"

Mrs. Urie breathed shakily, but agreed before hanging up the phone. "We have to go find Brendon and Jon," Ryan said with no hesitation. Spencer grabbed Ryan's arm fast, still looking alarmed. "What the hell is wrong now?!" He demanded, but Spencer didn't cower away or look frightened by it.

"Ryan...something isn't right... We can't bring Brendon there. I don't know why, but we just can't," Spencer whispered, glancing at the forest where Jon was leading Brendon out slowly. Brendon's face looked gaunt in that moment. "Please..." His voice sounded urgent and wary, but Ryan felt like Spencer was being more than ridiculous.

"If Mrs. Urie wants us to bring Brendon over, we have to bring Brendon over," Ryan replied sternly, a pit of anger growing within him. He felt frustrated by the whole situation. Mostly because they were nowhere closer to figuring out what the hell happened and why Brendon was alive and not dead. 

Before Spencer could reply again, Jon and Brendon made it over. "Do you have anything to say to Brendon, Ryan?" Jon asked, seeming very impatient at the moment. 

Ryan sighed and stepped forward, pulling Brendon into a hug. "I'm sorry. I know you're actually you. I shouldn't have said those things," He whispered. Brendon only gave a short, stiff nod in response. He didn't forgive him just yet, but Ryan was expecting it from how stubborn the latter was. "Your mom wants me to bring you over to see Mark."

Brendon looked puzzled, not responding for a good minutes before asking, "Like...my brother Mark?" His head seemed scrambled in that minute. He opened his mouth to say something else, but immediately shut it and shook his head. "Let's go then, I guess." He headed to the car, not saying anything else and not letting them respond as he climbed into the passengers seat of the car.

"He's still very upset at you," Jon muttered to Ryan. 

"And I didn't doubt that he would be, Jonathan." Ryan felt impatient, almost. He walked to the car. He knew perfectly well and he didn't need a Captain Obvious to say it to him. He knew how Brendon was, he knew how stubborn he was, and he knew that it would take a few hours for Brendon to finally give in and accept the apology. Until then, Ryan would lay low around him, cautious with his words and body language. After all, Brendon genuinely didn't know any more than they did.

Ryan walked to the car and got in the driver's seat, giving a tiny glance over to Brendon who had his eyes closed, head against the headrest. Exhaustion was clear on his face, but he obviously wasn't asleep from the way his hands fiddled with his jacket sleeves restlessly. No matter how badly the situation confused Ryan, he wanted to help Brendon the best he could. Help them both understand how this was possible. It was just a matter of time before they did figure it out.

~+~+~+~

The car ride was silent the whole way there, but the expression on Brendon's face kept morphing from different expressions. Confusion, sadness, then fear. Absolute fear. Ryan noticed it, but didn't dare ask why. He didn't want to strike a cord inside Brendon to make him even more upset, or mad, than he already was.

Ryan pulled into the driveway and hummed softly. "Jon, Spencer, stay in the car, yeah?" He looked back at them and Jon gave a short nod. Spencer was too busy staring at his hands to even realize Ryan had asked them something, but that wasn't anything knew. Jon usually responded for both of them, anyway. "Alright then... Let's go, Bren," He muttered and got out of the car. He could tell Brendon was hesitant as he slid out of the car and started heading for the door. Ryan watched Brendon carefully, wondering why he looked ready to run.

The front door began to open, then Brendon's breathing got heavier, chest suddenly feeling constricted. He bolted away from the door. Ryan's immediate instinct was to run after him, ignoring the yell of both of their names as he followed Brendon into the forest.


	10. 10

Brendon was pretty sure he had lost Ryan by the time he had climbed up in the tree and stayed put until Ryan had passed. He was always faster at running than the latter, so he knew he could easily get away. He knew if Ryan did somehow find him, he'd demand to know what happened. Demand to know why he ran off so suddenly.

The answer was simple in Brendon's mind, though. Mark was going to bring him back somewhere he didn't want to be. He didn't want Ryan to take him back to the house, not after the weird images that flashed behind his eyes even though he couldn't remember what those images were. It was like in an instant he had forgotten right after seeing them. 

"Brendon!" Ryan's voice echoed through the forest. Brendon's whole body tensed at the booming, echoing voice. 

_Please don't make me go back there. Please don't make me go back there._ He chanted in his head as he curled up on the thick tree branch he had perched himself on top of. His feet were sore and aching from running so quickly, but he knew it was necessary. He didn't want Ryan to bring him back there. He didn't want to see Mark, in fear of him trying to drag him back from the place he couldn't think of. He didn't want to explain to Ryan why. He hadn't forgiven him fully yet, and he didn't expect him to understand. 

So he was avoiding everyone now. His mom, his dad, Mark, Jon, Spencer, and even Ryan. He had to get his mind clear. Had to figure out everything before he decided it was truly safe or not. The answer was a definite, hard no at that moment.

"Why am I so scared...?" Brendon whispered to himself, feeling uneasy and wary. His mind wandered as he stared off at the other trees around him, letting his thoughts engulf him.

~+~+~+~

Ryan was tired. He had lost sight of Brendon too quickly for his liking and now he was nowhere to be found. He panted hard, trying to catch his uneven breath as he turned in circles, hoping that maybe he could even just catch a flash of Brendon to give him a sense of direction, but what greeted with the same view of identical trees surrounding him. He took his phone out and dialed Jon's number, panicked.

"Ryan, where the fuck are you, man? Mrs. Urie is flipping her absolute shit," Jon said. The phone had only rang once, Ryan had noted. 

"Brendon ran off into the forest. I lost him," Ryan responded quickly, eyes still darting around frantically. _Where the fuck did he go?_

"Come back to the house and I'll come with you to try and find him, okay?" Jon's voice lowered a little, faint footsteps in the background, indicating he was walking away from Brendon's panicking mother and Brendon's, probably, frightened (or agitated) brother. "Just meet me outside the forest and then we'll go in and try to find him, okay?"

Ryan breathed shakily and nodded. "Yeah, yeah...alright. I'll be out in a few minutes. I'm guessing Spencer is going to be staying at the house with them?" He started heading to the edge of the forest, a little anxious to hang up all of a sudden. In the forest, it felt eerie and uncomfortable. Knowing Brendon was still out in there somewhere made Ryan feel even more anxious. 

A soft soft left Jon's mouth, it being audible to Ryan. "Yeah. It's best for him to stay here. Just hurry, Ry." He then hung up.

Now he was alone, wondering where Brendon was and trying to find his way out of the forest. He tried his best to double-task; finding his way back to the outskirts while looking around for Brendon. He could've have gotten that far that fast, could he? If he somehow magically did, that'd be impressive. Ryan was desperately trying to hold onto the hope that Brendon didn't make it that far, but if Brendon was running on adrenaline, it was false hope. 

He let his mind wander and worry about all the bad things that could happen to Brendon. Kidnapped, mauled by an animal, climb a tree and fall to his doom. He tried to shake his mind from these thoughts, but he was worried. After losing Brendon once, he couldn't bear losing him a second time. 

Once he found his way to the outskirts of the forest, his eyes caught Jon pacing the Uries' driveway, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. "Jon!" Ryan called out, waving over to the latter, his face a little red still from running and panicking. Jon looked over to Ryan and hurried up to him.

"How the hell did you manage to lose him?" Jon asked, seeming worried. Ryan wasn't the only one feeling the "I can't lose him again" vibe. None of them wanted to lose Brendon again after five years without him. It was tough for all of them.

"He got spooked and ran, I'm guessing. Brendon's fast when he's feeding his energy on adrenaline," Ryan muttered, seeming a bit irritated. He wasn't irritated at Jon. How could he be? He was irritated at himself, most definitely. He let Brendon run in the first place. He felt so stupid for letting that happen because now anything could happen. A part of him worried that Brednon really was a hallucination and that him running off indicated that it was a sweet moment of bliss he ruined with his own doubt and stubbornness. A cruel tactic.

But he was sure that Brendon wasn't a hallucination. Mr. and Mrs. Urie, Jon, and Spencer also saw Brendon. Their couldn't be in sync to make them see the same hallucination at the same time, or at all. 

Jon sighed softly and then started heading into the forest. From the way his posture was, Ryan could tell Jon was stressed. His footsteps were rushed and a little uneven as his head moved cautiously around. "Brendon!" He called out through cupped hands.

"Brendon!" Ryan called out right after, noting how his voice sounded desperate and scared. His heart was beating out of his chest from anxiety and paranoia.

"Ryan?! Jon?!" Brendon's voice echoed, making the two freeze and start frantically looking around. Ryan tried determining where his voice came from before running off in a different direction. 

"Brendon?! Brendon where are you?!" Ryan nearly screamed. Tears burned his eyes, not being sure if they were tears of joy or tears of anxiety. He came to a clearing and saw Brendon sitting in the grass, knees pressed protectively into his chest as his glassy eyes started wide at Ryan. "Holy shit, are you okay?" He rushed over, dropping to his knees beside the latter. He felt his chest tighten unhappily as he saw how small and defeated Brendon looked. So broken. "Hey, hey...what's wrong?" He asked before cautiously and slowly pulling the younger against his chest, taking a chance even though Brendon might reject the gesture.

Brendon's breathing was shaky. "Take me home..." He whispered, sounding afraid. Ryan was puzzled about the tone. The tone didn't only sound afraid, but it had another tone he couldn't place his finger on. "Please..." Brendon whispered, sounding desperate. Then it made sense.

He was begging.

"Brendon, your mother wanted you to see your brother, so you-"

"No!" Brendon's voice squeaked, it echoing through the clearing. "Pl-please don't make me! Please, I don't want him near me!"

There was a crunching sound, making Brendon tense and press his face into Ryan's neck, tears rushing down his cold cheeks. Ryan glanced over and saw Jon, frowning at him and looking concerned. He mouthed Ryan's name, the question mark after it being very clear by the look on his face. Ryan only shook his head and held Brendon closer to his chest.

"I won't make you...but can you tell me why?" Ryan asked. He was worried. Brendon's pure fear towards his brother made him wonder what he had possibly done to make Brendon act this way. 

Brendon could offer a nod, his voice being choked by the sobs wanting to escape his throat that he was desperately trying to keep inside. Ryan nodded a little and looked at Jon. "Jon, go get the car and get Spencer. Make up a lie or something, say that you need Spence to help look for Brendon on the roads. Please? I refuse to take him back there. Me me at the entrance to the neighborhood 

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but shut it a second later before nodding hesitantly. Without a word, he headed off, disappearing into the trees.

Ryan scooped Brendon off the ground, carrying him bridal style before heading off in the opposite direction of Jon. Brendon nuzzled his nose into Ryan's jaw, breathing shakily.

"Don't let them hurt me again, Ryan..." Brendon whispered, voice hoarse and obviously terrified.

Ryan breathed shakily, not knowing what Brendon meant and was scared to find out. But despite that, he said, "I won't, Brendon. I'll never let them hurt you again."

~+~+~+~

The front door opened and Mrs. Urie perked up as Jon walked in. But once she realized he was still alone, her shoulders slumped. Mark looked over, his chest tightening horribly. _Oh god. I'm going to have my head chopped off._ Mark thought, the corner of his lip twitching. 

"You couldn't find him?" Mrs. Urie asked, standing up and walking over to Jon, gripping onto his jacket. 

Jon glanced over at Spencer, raising his eyebrows a little, knowing Spencer would immediately understand. Spencer's soft icy eyes turned a little shiny and he nodded knowingly and stood up, slipping his jacket back on. 

"No. I'm sorry, Grace. Ryan asked me to take Spencer with me to check the roads for him in case he really did get that far. I'm sure we'll find him and he'll be just fine," Jon reassured, giving a tiny smile. 

Spencer's eyes looked at Mark, side-eyeing him as he studied his features. Mark could tell Jon wasn't being truthful and it made him a little more than pissed. This wasn't only his job to bring Brendon back, but he was also his little brother. Jon knew where Brendon was and he was holding out on Mrs. Urie who was worried sick about her son who was killed five years ago. 

Spencer felt uneasy, being able to see it in Mark's expressions easily. 

"Spencer," Jon said and caught the latter's attention. His icy eyes met Jon's mocha browns. "We have to go. Come on." He then turned to head out the door. Spencer started following as he slowly made eye contact with Mark. Mark's eyes met Spencer's and something clicked into Mark's brain, but he wasn't sure what that thing was yet. He watched as Spencer walked out of the house with Jon and disappeared.

~+~+~+~

The car ride was silent. Jon was gripping onto the steering wheel tightly with one hand, his other hand gently placed on Spencer's knee for comfort. Spencer was dozing off in the passengers seat, head laid onto his own shoulder, eyes shut. Ryan was holding Brendon, not caring about seat belts at the moment. Brendon needed as much comfort as he could get and Ryan wanted to supply that for him. Brendon was sleeping in Ryan's arms, exhausted from running and using adrenaline. 

They pulled up to the house and Ryan carefully brought Brendon up to the bedroom and tucked him in, sitting beside him for a second before looking at the doorway and looking at Jon who had put Spencer in the guest bedroom. "Can we have a talk?" Jon asked, sounding a little nervous with every word coming out of his mouth. Ryan looked at Jon for a moment before nodding and standing up, reluctantly letting go of Brendon's hand. He stepped out into the hall with Jon before leading him downstairs. All he wanted to do was lay there with Brendon to make sure he was okay, and he was sure Jon would like to stay with Spencer.

"What's up?" Ryan asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. He looked at Jon, mentally drained and not happy. 

Jon sighed and then looked Ryan right in the eyes. "Spencer isn't sure if what he saw was correct, but he thinks Brendon hurt Elizabeth by accident and doesn't remember it."


	11. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated this on Wattpad how many days ago and yet forgot to update it here. I am so sorry. Here it is, though! I remembered because I went to go write chapter twelve. But, Jesus, I'm sorry! Well, here it is. Chapter eleven.

William watched Gabe from the couch as the latter stood in the kitchen making himself a ham sandwich. He knew this couldn't be possible for many factors. Gabe was shot. He died and was destined to be out of William's life until William himself passed on to the afterlife.

"You're acting very strange there, Bill. Are you okay?" Gabe asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern. He never had seen William act like this before.

"Yeah...yeah... I'm okay..." William replied, waving his hand dismissively. He jumped a little when the doorbell rang, not even hesitating a second later to make a run for the door. He flung the door open and was met with Vicky who was still wearing a party dress and her evening makeup. "Oh god, I'm so glad you're here. I think I'm fucking losing it," He rushed out, voice hushed.

Vicky laughed a little. "It's late Bill. We all get a little weird at night," She said, voice cool and brushing it off. She was used to similar behavior from William because ever since Gabe died it had sort of just become a thing. "Now let me in. It's chilly out here."

"Vicky, is that you?!" Gabe's voice radiated from the kitchen. Vicky looked at William, instantly matching the confused and almost horrified expression. Gabe rounded the corner, a big winning smile on his face as he strode over. "God, it's late! What are you doing here?"

"Well...Bill called me over and I just...decided to be a good friend and come see him," Vicky explained, trying to stop herself from freaking out despite being surprised and shocked and wanting to scream or run away or to just do something. William immediately knew that this wasn't a hallucination. It frankly scared him worse.

Gabe laughed. "Alright. Well, we can all hang out for a but then, yeah?" He said. He didn't wait for a response as he turned and headed back into the kitchen.

Vicky stepped inside and shut the door, staring at William wide-eyed. "What the hell, William?!" She hissed lowly at him, smacking his arm. "This isn't even close to being okay! This won't help you heal!"

"Wh-what?!" William squeaked, seeming genuinely shocked. "I didn't do anything!"

"Don't lie," Vicky pleaded, seeming desperate. "You didn't need to hire a Gabriel look-alike to help you heal because it won't help! I'll tell that guy to leave. What's his name, Bill?"

"Vicky, I didn't hire anyone!" William said, defensiveness in his tone as he stood his ground. "That's Gabriel fucking Saporta. I didn't hire anyone and no one could just easily pass as him."

Vicky seemed uneasy as she looked over William's face, not wanting to believe the story. She knew William better than that, though. Even after five years, he was heartbroken over Gabe's passing and wouldn't hire someone who remotely looks like Gabe just to make him feel better. He was better than that and everyone in that town knew it. "Okay...well...let's go talk to him then. Obviously he didn't seem to notice the differences on us, so there's obviously something up." Without another word, she sauntered into the kitchen, William following. Unlike her walk, his was rushing and seemed absolutely panicked.

"I was wondering when you were gonna join me," Gabe said, laughing and shaking his head.

"How the hell are you back?" Vicky asked directly, not giving any soft lay-down question. No question to help a gentle landing.

Gabe looked at Vicky puzzled. "I...walked home...?" He shrugged a little. "My car broke down, remember? So I've been walking everywhere for the past few weeks."

Vicky and William both did remember that. Gabe smashed it into a tree by accident and then it was in the shop, attempting to be prepared even though the hopes weren't that high and the bills would be outrageous. After Gabe had passed, William had told them to put the car in the dump and paid them for the help they had started on. The car by then was destroyed.

"Yeah, right," Vicky said, sounding a little disbelieving. She was anxious, though. "But I didn't mean that. I meant...how the fuck are you alive?"

"Well, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much-" Gabe started, but was cut off immediately with Vicky groaning. Gabe snickered. "But seriously, that's how I'm alive. My parents had sex and then I was born. Didn't your parents ever give you the big T?"

Vicky seemed a little impatient, but William didn't want to rush things. He knew when Gabe was genuinely confused by a question; he'd make up weird ass answers or twist the questions by making it sound like they meant something else.

"Gabe, you died," William suddenly blurted out, quickly covering his mouth. He shrunk back a little as Gabe looked at him. His eyes seemed confused and shocked.

"Bill, what the fuck are you talking about?" Gabe asked, seeming slightly afraid, but tried to put on a douchey expression to hide that feeling.

William sighed in defeat, throwing his hands up a little. "You died five fucking years ago, Gabe! Are you seriously telling me you don't fucking remember?!"

Gabe stared at William, but kept glancing at Vicky who looked like she wanted to crawl right out of her skin and hide. The couple fighting always bothered her. They had fights every once in awhile, mostly about stupid things. But a fight was a fight and she hated seeing them fight in any sort of way.

"I can't say I do, William."

Vicky sighed and then muttered, "It's a long story. Let's sit down and talk about it..."

~+~+~+~

Dallon was pressing himself against his car a bit protectively as he waited for his children to get out of school. It had taken twenty minutes of his life to convince Breezy to stay at home and in the master bedroom. To Dallon's pleasure, she listened...

After twenty minutes of complaining and crying and saying Dallon was an asshole.

Dallon didn't blame her.

This was a literal mess and he didn't know how to possibly fix it. He broke his wife out of a facility he worked for because he couldn't stand seeing her being used as a lab rat. Sure, he was one of the bosses for the facility, but the main boss, Gray, was stern and would beat Dallon's ass into the ground. They had already lost two others, but now a third had went missing and it was because he had taken her out of there, thanking God that there was a barrier that took her memory of the lab away. He didn't want her remembering that.

But the other two had gotten out by helping each other. He knew only one of them and they had become a main experiment. A toy for their amusement as all they did was break him little by little to the point where he killed five of their own men because he had disobeyed orders and they had tried taking him to solitary for a two week time out. It ended with five men on the floor and Dallon wondering how the hell Gray would do that to his own flesh and blood.

Gray was a sadist, though. He loved people being in pain and he loved the "thrill" of it. Dallon knew he was a horrible man, but never dared to say that to his face. The only person he had ever told that to was Experiment 412. The number definitely didn't align with the number of experiments they had, but Gray said it made sense to him and to not question it. 

The bell rang, making Dallon break out of his thoughts as he looked as the doors opened and kids came flooding out. He could feel his heart pounding as he saw his two children come through the door, rushing down to their father who was running on little sleep.

 _I wish I could tell them their mother was alive._ Dallon thought, imagining how excited and happy they'd be to see Breezy again. But he couldn't. Them knowing would push everything off the line entirely since Dallon was already on it. Them knowing would mean they could tell and Gray would find out and shove his ass into a pit of lava. He didn't need that.

"Dad!" Knox exclaimed as he clung to Dallon who let out a weak, tired laugh. Amelie was next to cling to her father's side and grin widely.

"Hey kids," Dallon whispered and hugged them back the best he could. "Let's get home, yeah? I have the nanny coming over to watch you guys as I go to work."

"But Dad, why do you have to go to work?" Amelie asked, seeming disappointed. "You work every single day!"

Dallon laughed softly and shook his head. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I promise I'll find a week to have off. I'm just swamped in work right now."

They all got in the car and Dallon started driving. His mind kept going back to Breezy. How she was sitting the attic, wondering why the hell Dallon would do such a horrible thing, probably wishing she could claw the man she loved eyes out. And Dallon didn't blame her if she did want that.

He didn't blame her for the anger or the sadness.

He knew exactly how to fix this now. He knew exactly what to do.

~+~+~+~

Patrick kept tapping his pen on the page, not focusing on the paperwork in front of him. His mind kept travelling to what he saw earlier, wanting to believe his eyes were simply playing tricks on him.

His first instinctive thought was to call Elisa, but instead he sat there, weighing his options. She'd certainly think he had lost his mind for the hundredth time in these last five years and she could easily just hand him over to a mental facility. He didn't want that.

He slowly got up from his seat and slowly headed towards the window. His heart was pounding as he looked out into the town. Lights were everywhere and then, there he was. Patrick's eyes landed on him as they made eye contact. His heart began pounding, the sound suddenly in his ears as he grabbed both curtain sides and pulled them together, taking a long step backwards.

"He's not there... He's not fucking there..." Patrick whispered, seeming desperate and hoping that his words were true and not just lies he was feeding himself to try to make his anxiety go down. His eyed went to where his hands were gripping the curtain to bring them together, slowly parting them slightly to look for him. A sigh of relief left his mouth as he noticed that he wasn't there.

"See, Patrick...? It was your just imagination..." He laughed, feeling a little dumb in that moment. 

That's until he heard the front door open and shut.


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't been updating this. There's so far 15 chapters on my Wattpad but I've been totally forgetting to update the one on here. Excuse that. But I've also been taking a heavy ass break from writing Living Dead. But now I'm back and writing it. Hope you enjoy.

Ryan didn't want to believe it. He knew what Spencer saw was almost always correct, but he just couldn't see Brendon hurting anyone. His arms were securely wound around Brendon, holding him close to his chest and definitely scared to let him go. Jon's words seeped further into his brain, but yet he still tried denying it to himself. Brendon wouldn't hurt someone, not on purpose. And what Spencer saw wasn't even realistic! Hurting here without even touching her? That couldn't be possible.

 _Brendon came back from the dead. You thought that was impossible too, but look at him. He's actually here, alive and well._ Ryan reminded himself. He felt uneasy because it simply boggled him. But when Brendon woke up, he was going to ask about everything that was on his mind. What made him break down, why he didn't want to go back to the house, and if he really hurt Elizabeth or not. Maybe not all in the same time frame, though, since he didn't want to pressure Brendon and push him to tell everything all at once.

Brendon made soft noises in his sleep, pressing his nose more against Ryan's chest. His breathing was soft and even after how long. It gave Ryan a sense of peace. He kept wondering what possibly could be the matter and how he could've possibly came back. It seemed impossible and surreal even though he had prayed every night Brendon would just magically walk through the door and announce he's home from the concert, unhurt and completely alive. He always thought those prayers wouldn't come true, but it did. But it all wasn't a horrible nightmare like he had hoped, it did happen and Brendon did die.

A horrible chain of events from that day to five years later, but then suddenly it seemed okay despite the current events where Brendon could've remembered something crucial. Paranoia set in when he realized Brendon's sleeping could effect the memories and make them vanish again, and god did he hope that wasn't the case.

"Ryan...?" Brendon's sleepy voice penetrated the silence in the room. "We're home...?" His foggy chocolate brown eyes looked up into Ryan's honey browns.

"Yeah, we're home," Ryan replied back in a whisper, gently running his fingers through Brendon's hair. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Brendon stared at Ryan for a solid minute before looking away. "It's still pretty foggy, to be frank, but I do remember...needles...experiments..." He looked back at Ryan, eyes holding fear in them. A fear Ryan had never seen in Brendon's eyes. "My brothers worked there. They helped conduct experiments on me like I was a lab rat."

Ryan frowned, focused on Brendon's voice and the way his eyes seemed unfocused.

"But the thing is...I didn't get released from there..." Brendon breathed shakily and he looked into Ryan's eyes. "I escaped."

~+~+~+~

Mark felt like he couldn't focus on the road properly. His mind went to Brendon. That stupid boy escaped on his watch. He thought he had died, but Gray said differently. He knew Brendon was alive because of the psychic ability he had inhabited from the facility. Mark was doubtful because Gray's power wasn't that strong yet, but alas, he was right. Brendon was alive and well and he definitely had to remember something if he ran off in such a hurry. And Brendon's friends. The hippy and the icy-eyed sassy asshole. He could see their communication through their eyes. But Jon only did it and Spencer just...understood? It reminded him of Gray with his psychic ability.

He parked outside the gates before walking in, getting met immediately by Mr. Weekes who seemed distressed as him and Gray spoke. "Hey," Mark said, frowning at them. "Is...something wrong?"

"No. I guess not," Gray said, his voice low and dark as he stared Mr. Weekes down. Before the Gray or Mark could talk, Mr. Weekes pivoted his feet and headed down the hall quickly. Gray turned to Mark and looked him over. "So Brendon's alive?" He asked.

Mark nodded in confirmation. "Yes. He's still alive and with Ryan Ross, his partner." Unease settled in him as Gray's dark brown - almost black - eyes bore into his own. 

Gray let a cold smile appear on his face. "Yet, you doubted me," He hissed lowly and glanced back at where Mr. Weekes had headed off to in such a hurry before gripping Mark's arm and pulling him into a vacant office. "Why did you doubt me that our own brother was alive, Mark? You don't trust my experiments for my psychic ability?"

The room felt cold and Mark wanted to pull his arm away. So, he did hastily and glared at his brother. "Of course I doubted you! The last person who escaped died because they got hit by a car!"

"Well, it wasn't only our dear little brother who escaped, Mark. It was another patient. Gabriel Saporta. His powers aren't as strong as Brendon's, but physically with his own muscle, he is stronger and got Brendon out and saved his own life as well. And now you're telling me, let me guess, that you have no fucking clue where either of them are?"

Mark flinched as the tone of Gray's voice became harsher, but he stood his ground. "Gray, Brendon ran. If I suddenly ran after him and both him and I disappeared, Ryan would've had my ass on a stick if he found me. And I have a feeling their friend might be coming to conclusions."

Gray's eyebrows narrowed, eyes seeming darker. "Their friend...?" He froze and stared directly into Mark's eyes before letting out a bitter laugh. "Hah! That boy. I know exactly who that is. And...I can't let him get in the way. We have to take him out before he finds out too much. And that job goes to you, Mark!" He grinned for a minute before his expression turned cold again. "And get our brother back. Do you understand?"

"Gray! I can't just murder so-" Mark was cut off by Gray's glare.

"You will do it Mark. You don't have a choice," Gray snarled before walking out, calling behind him. "Do it or there will be consequences."

~+~+~+~

"So Gabe is alive too, then?" Ryan asked, looking at Brendon who was picking at his fingers nervously. "He helped you escape because they were experimenting on you?"

"Yes," Brendon replied, sounding numb. "Dallon was the one who figured it out. He didn't mean to do any harm by it. He just thought it'd be a good idea to maybe...bring us back and give us some peace and to send us back to where we belong." He took a shaky breath and looked up at Ryan. "But that facility is horrible, Ryan. Gray runs the place and apparently has been running experiments to make people...special..."

Ryan cocked an eyebrow. "Special how?"

"Powers. Telekinesis, telepathy, pyrokinesis, clairvoyance - stuff like that," Brendon explained. Ryan's chest tightened instantly. The younger looked up at Ryan and suddenly narrowed his eyes. "What?" He nearly snapped.

"Do...you have a power...?" Ryan asked, sounding immediately uneasy.

Brendon shrugged and gave a weak, almost defeated, smile. "I really don't know. Probably. I mean, from the fucking experiments they did on me, I guess I do. Do I know which one or ones? No. I don't remember."

 _I can't tell him... Not yet. He's obviously getting annoyed, so I should stop for right now._ Ryan thought and then nodded. 

"Just rest, okay?" Ryan said and gently reached over to move hair out of Brendon's eyes. "We'll talk more later, alright?"

Brendon gave a weak nod and a smile before laying down and burrowing himself in the blankets. Ryan let out a shaky sigh before getting up and leaving the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. He walked into the guest bedroom where he knew Jon and Spencer would be. 

Spencer was still passed out on the bed, pale but at the same times his cheeks being an angry shade of red. Jon was holding a book, reading it carefully before looking over. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah..." Ryan whispered.

"How did it go?"

Once again, Ryan's chest tightened and he swallowed thickly. "It went...alright..." He scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously.

Jon frowned. "Did you talk about...Elizabeth...?"

Ryan let out a frustrated sigh. "No! I didn't, Jonathan!" He yelled, but flinched back when he saw Spencer shift and whimper, curling up into a ball.

"Lower your damn voice," Jon hissed and then stood up, placing the book on the bed before pushing Ryan out of the room and shutting the door behind them both. "What did he tell you?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

"He told me that he was experimented on by his brothers, Gray and Mark," Ryan said, the words sour in his mouth. He was happy Brendon ran away from the house.

Jon's eyes widened. "Spencer told me he felt something off about Mark but he couldn't understand why." He laughed a little breathlessly. "Boy's too smart for his own good."

Ryan nodded. "He's also fucking psychic. Smart, psychic boy who can help us figure all this shit out. He can probably figure out more than what Brendon can remember."

"Yeah. Well, where's Brendon?" Jon crossed his arms over his chest.

"Resting for now. He was getting irritated with the questions and the remembering, so I'm letting him rest for a little bit before we talk more about the subject. And I'm sure if you wanted to hear what happened, Brendon can tell you. I'm sure he'd be able to tell you better anyway."

Jon nodded and then held onto the doorknob. "We'll work all of this out, Ryan. I'm sure of it." With that, he went back in the room and shut the door. Ryan noticed the soft click of the door being locked.

~+~+~+~

Dallon sat at his desk in his secluded office, his chest tight and the worst uncomfortable feeling settling at the bottom of his stomach. He clicked through the several photos of test subjects. He knew that it was the worst mistake of giving Gray the knowledge of bringing the dead back. He knew it wasn't going to end well and he should've stuck with his gut instincts. But he didn't because Gray knew everything. And he knew that there was suspicion with Breezy. 

He clicked on the file titled "Experiment 412" and photos and documents regarding this boy appeared. Dallon clicked on the first photo. A horrible photo of him when he was in solitary. He was curled up in a ball in the corner, hair covering his face, brown eyes nearly dull and grey. His hands were red and purple and his skin was pale; so pale you could clearly see his veins. Dallon remembered being right behind Gray as he took that photo. It was two days after they had brought the boy back.

The boy had been rebellious. Scared of the place he had woken up in. He had punched Dallon in the face, but since he had been brought back, he was still weak and the punch wasn't that hard. Gray had laughed at the appearance of the boy, saying he looked like hell, but then saying it wasn't surprising since he had been dead for about a year. 

Dallon remembered having to steal the bodies before they were buried. They had filled the casket with water and then took the bodies in body bags back to the lab. They were, at first, just experiments. How certain tests worked on a human body. Dallon was always curious if you could bring someone back from the dead, and alas, he had done it. The first person he brought back was Experiment 02, also known as, Michael Way. Or, well, Mikey. It was a shock to Dallon and he hid the man in an abandoned office for about three weeks with others over time before Gray demanded to know what Dallon was hiding.

That was something Dallon was good at. Keeping his mind closed off from Gray. But, of course, Gray had his suspicions. 

He kept looking through the photos of Experiment 412. His heart felt like it was being squeezed. Gray and Mark had tortured someone so far and took pictures of him. But then, he came across a picture that wasn't like the others. 

And suddenly it all made sense to Dallon.


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one!

Ryan had spent the whole night, eyes focused on Brendon warily. Around six in the morning he had gotten up and went downstairs to try and get his mind off of it. He chain smoked half a pack of cigarettes, letting his thoughts wander. 

Around nine in the morning, Jon walked down, Spencer trailing behind him slowly. Ryan remained sitting on the patio outside, listening to the mumble of voices coming from the kitchen. His eyes moved to look at the two, Spencer nowhere to be seen from the view and Jon making himself a cup of coffee. Ryan shifted a little to see the stairs, seeing a shadow being shown on the wall thanks to the morning sun. He knew Brendon must be listening from the stairs. 

A little laugh left Ryan's mouth. Brendon had always been a curious boy. He listened into conversations sometimes out of pure interest, but Ryan knew well enough the younger had a purpose to listen. Through the mumbling from Jon, and occasionally Spencer, he could hear Brendon's name being brought up. 

Jon was stressed, Ryan noted as he watched Jon's body language and the tone of the mumbling. It made his heart begin to pick up a worried pace. He stood up finally, feeling unsettled. He got inside and made another mental note that the shadow finally ascended the stairs, Brendon finally appearing into actual view instead of being just a shadow. 

"Morning," Brendon said, an edge to his tone that only Ryan could fully recognize. A lazy, fake tired smile was on his lips as he looked between the three. 

"Morning," Jon greeted and held the coffee pot up, looking between Ryan and Brendon in question. Ryan gave a nod and Brendon shook his head, but gave a "thank you" kind of smile. Jon hummed as he poured Ryan a cup of coffee and handed it to him. 

Ryan glanced at Spencer who was sitting on a chair by the table, tapping his thumbs together absentmindedly. _No wonder I couldn't see him._ Ryan thought and then looked at Brendon who took an end seat. 

Jon sat down across from Spencer, leaving the other end chair open which Ryan took. His eyes instantly met with Brendon's.

"I think there is stuff we need to talk about," Jon said, voice a bit rougher than usual. His eyes were on Spencer, the boy's head down, still tapping his thumbs together. Ryan finally had noticed Spencer's eyes were glossy, pupils dilated. It looked like he was a doll, almost.

Brendon tapped the fingers on the table, breathing picking up. "Like what?" He whispered, eyes not daring to look at Jon. 

Jon's eyes went to Brendon immediately. "They're looking for you," Jon said, and at the same exact moment, Brendon's whole body tensed. "And they'll kill to get you back. Why?"

"You're expecting me to know that?" Brendon asked, no hostility to his voice. "Why can't Spencer just tell you since he's the psychic one?" His eyes went to Spencer, snapping his fingers in front of the other's eyes. "Is he fucking high or something?" Even though the words were meant to be hostile, his voice lacked it.

"He's in shock," Ryan said before Jon could snap back. He knew Jon was in an irritable mood and he didn't want him lashing out at Brendon. "It happens sometimes, don't worry about it. But what else did Spencer see, Jon?"

Jon looked Ryan and smiled coldly. "Brendon's precious brother ordered Mark to kill Spencer."

~+~+~+~

Dallon stepped through the door, heart feeling heavy. He could hear Amelie and Knox in the living room as he slowly shut the front door, slipping his shoes off as well.

"Dad!" Knox called from the living room.

His heart was hammering against his rib cage, anxiety eating away at him slowly. The only question running through his head was simply, why? He couldn't focus on his children's voices coming from the living room as the nanny walked over. They didn't exchange words as Dallon pulled out a hundred dollar bill and handed it to her, giving a nod before stepping away from the door to let her out. That's how it worked, it seemed. 

"Dad!"

Dallon nearly flinched this time, his head pounding. "Hey, kids," He said, finally forcing himself away from the entryway and into the living room, seeing art supplies scattered on the floor and Netflix playing some movie Dallon couldn't recall ever knowing about. 

"How was work?" Amelie asked, tilting her head a little. She could see from the way he was acting that he was stressed over something. She had taken on a role of always being there for her father like Breezy was before she had passed. Dallon knew and always thought it was silly for a girl her age to own up to such a responsibility. 

"Well, it was fine. Just a little stressful. I... I'm going to go to bed," He rushed out the words, quickly heading towards the staircase and ascending up the stairs in a hurry. He opened the master bedroom door where Breezy was sitting on the bed. He jumped a little at the sight of her and breathed shakily.

Breezy stood, frowning. "I didn't want to stay cooped up in the fucking basement anymore, Dallon," She said before he could get a single word out of his mouth. 

Dallon nodded and then smiled gently. The smile was unsure and Breezy could tell it. "You can stay in here. Just...make sure the kids don't come in," He said, voice quiet. He then walked into the bathroom, getting dressed into something casual before stepping out and seeing Breezy laying on the bed, staring in Dallon's direction. "Is something wrong?"

"How could you do this? Bring people back from the dead? I get that you were desperate, alone, and scared, but this shouldn't have been the solution."

"You're right," Dallon whispered, slowly settling himself down beside Breezy. "It was stupid of me, but I did it... And...two of them escaped, Breezy..." 

Breezy slowly sat up, her eyes narrowing a little. "Tell me about it, then. Like the good old days when you would come home from work."

Dallon hesitated, but there was no going back now.

~+~+~+~

"It's not his fault, Jonathan!" Ryan yelled, not daring to look towards the living room where he knew Brendon dragged Spencer to. "Brendon didn't know the consequences! We just have to leave Summerlin and then they can't find us!"

"Do you really think it's that easy?! According to Spencer, they can find us no matter where we go! Mark knows about Spencer's ability and how he's a threat to them. How he could expose the company. It's not just about Brendon being here, but that's what started it," Jon yelled back, sounding stressed. Angry and stressed and ready to punch Ryan in the face.

Ryan sighed and leaned against the counter, fuming with rage. "Don't you dare blame this on Brendon, Jon. He. Didn't. Know."

Brendon glanced over, holding Spencer to his chest as he listened to the two fighting. He couldn't stand it, but he didn't know what to do. He pressed Spencer's head against his chest to cover the one year, using his hand to cover the other.

Jon laughed, disbelievingly. "So now what? They come and kill us all and take Brendon back to experiment land? No one wins. If Brendon wouldn't have just left in the first place-"

"Don't!" Ryan yelled, eyes becoming dangerous, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "Brendon didn't know he'd lose his memories! He wanted out! They were hurting him, Jon, and I am glad he came back!"

"And now our lives are on the line for him?"

"No," Brendon said from the living room. "They want Spencer dead because his mind is too powerful to break. But you two...they would take you and break your mind...like they did their employees..." 

Jon laughed even harder, glaring at Ryan. "So that's what'll happen, Ryan. I say we leave Brendon on their front doorstep and leave this fucking place!"

"No! I refuse to leave Brendon here to get fucking used as a toy!" Ryan snarled. 

"Then Spencer dies and we turn into a fucking experiment too! I don't want to end up like Brendon, Ryan! I refuse to turn into a psycho like him!"

Ryan felt poison rush through his veins as he took a step forward, raising his fist to punch at Jon, but suddenly, his movements stopped, body tensing. Eyes widening, he looked at Jon in shock, the other seeming very shocked too.

"Stop!" Brendon cried out, seeming desperate and scared. His hand was raised, pupils dilated and sclera's veins bloodshot. "Please don't fight... No more! Spencer isn't going to die and none of us will be taken! Trust me! Please..." He lowered his hand slowly, Ryan feeling his muscles ease.

"You just..." Ryan started, seeming surprised.

Brendon nodded. "Kept you in place? I know... It sort of just...came back to me..." He looked down and shook his head. "Trust me, though. I won't let Mark kill Spencer or take you guys or take me. Please just trust me on this."

Jon breathed shakily and looked past him at Spencer who was sitting on his knees, giving Jon a "just do it, for the love of god," look. Jon's eyes met Brendon's ans he gave a sift, subtle nod. Brendon's eyes went back to Ryan who nodded with no hesitance.

"Good..." Brendon whispered. "We need to get out of this house, though. This place is too obvious for us. They are expecting me to be here since this is my home. We need to find a place safer."

"Like where?" Ryan asked.

"A hotel," Spencer finally said, standing, eyes still looking too doll-like for anyone's comfort. "A hotel would be the safest bet right now. We use fake names and fake credit cards. They won't find us."

Ryan nodded. "I'll get some things packed."

Brendon smiled and nodded. "Good. Now...before you do that," He started and then gestured between Ryan and Jon, "make up."

Jon turned to Ryan and held his hand out. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I freaked out and I shouldn't have. This isn't Brendon's fault." He looked at Brendon. "And I'm sorry to you too." Brendon gave a nod and a tiny smile, reassuring him that it was okay, silently.

"I forgive you, Jon," Ryan said, taking Jon's hand. He didn't apologize, and Jon wasn't expecting him to. Ryan then walked upstairs, getting some stuff packed for them while Jon and Spencer took of in Brendon's old Camry. 

"Fake credit cards? How are we going to pull that off?" Ryan asked and looked at Brendon.

"Spencer has fake credit cards under fake names," Brendon explained and smiled gently. "He's shady sometimes, but it's for good reasons." He zipped his suitcase and took it down to the car, Ryan following. Once they were in the car, they took off.

Ryan's head was cluttered with thoughts, hoping that Spencer and Brendon's plan was right. He didn't want to see his best friend dead and he couldn't stand the thought of his lover being taken from him once again. 

~+~+~+~

Dallon couldn't sleep, he was aware of that once the clock hit 4 AM and he was still laying there, staring at his once dead wife. He breathed shakily and slipped out from under the covers, slowly going downstairs into the kitchen and breathing shakily. He opened a drawing, skimming through the utensils before him before grabbing the handle of a butcher knife. He looked back up the dimly lit stairs, hearing the soft creaking from the bed, meaning Breezy had moved, but obviously wasn't awake.

His feet were nearly planted into the cold tiled floor of the kitchen, palm sweating around the knife handle. Once he finally found the ability to move, he slowly walked back up the stairs, breathing shakily as he did. Once he got into the doorway, he stared at Breezy's back, the cold blade of the knife pressing against his thigh. 

It's what is best. If Breezy's gone, they can't find her and take her from me. Dallon thought, mind racing harshly. He nearly tip-toed into the room, careful to not make the floorboards creek as he made his way over to Breezy. He slowly began to kneel on the bed before pushing her onto her back, straddling her legs, staring down at her. 

Breezy's eyes fluttered a tiny bit. "Mm... Dallon...? What are you do-"

She was cut off, Dallon's hand coming down quickly. It was all a blur of Dallon's arm moving and sobs leaving his mouth. He stopped pulling his hand away from the knife handle and then letting out a sob, putting his blood hands against his face. 

"Dallon..." Breezy's voice came softly.

Dallon parted his fingers, staring at Breezy, fear in his eyes. 

"Why did you try to kill me, Dallon?"

"I-I'm sorry..." Dallon managed to gasp out in between sobs.

The sound of the knife exited her body and dropping on the floor rang in Dallon's ear before Breezy sat up, Dallon still straddling her legs. "Baby...let's have a rational conversation...without you trying to kill me."


	14. 14

Mark didn't feel confident about this at all. Going after his brother, killing someone just because they posed a threat to Gray? It made him uncomfortable in many senses. But he was apart of this. He tortured his brother, nearly made him into a monster, and then he escaped; leaving the chains Gray and Mark had put him in, but losing his memory along the way. Mark couldn't just say it didn't make him feel uneasy, because it did. The youngest of five, once a sweet little Mormon boy, now turned into a weapon of destruction. A weapon Gray treated with no care because he didn't care about the screams that passed Brendon's lips as electric shocks shot through his tired, worn muscles.

Gray was a sadist.

Not that Mark could say anything because he couldn't help but be a little too joyful when he saw how strong Brendon had gotten. When he saw the men dead outside the room Brendon was being placed in for solitary confinement, he couldn't help the happiness that danced through his veins like a good drug.

But despite the high-like feeling he got when he saw Brendon getting stronger, he knew this was insane. Seeing Brendon get tortured again just for the sake of "science." Killing a guy because he posed a threat to Gray and the facility when they could just easily take him in and erase his memories, maybe even lock him in solitary so he can never be let free. But that isn't what Gray wanted. He liked putting the blood on someone else's hands when it came to that, and as far as Mark knew, Gray just didn't want another psychic in the building that could possibly have a stronger ability.

Mark stopped in the middle of the road, not seeming to care if cars suddenly came down the road and became frustrated with this man who was now just casually sitting in his car.

Soft, uneven breaths left his mouth. And he remembered where his place was. And he wasn't going to let Gray down.

~+~+~+~

The hotel was pretty nice, Ryan had to admit. They had bought out two rooms even though they had only planned to use to the one in the beginning, but Ryan supposed if Jon was terrified of losing Spencer, they needed time alone. And he couldn't disagree because Mark was also coming after Brendon to take him back, so time alone with Brendon for as much time was left was definitely crucial to Ryan.

"I don't want to talk about any more...science-y shit, alright?" Brendon whispered, voice seeming drained.

"Of course. Let's just...try and relax, alright?" Ryan suggested and sat on the bed beside Brendon.

"I don't want to be in hiding, Ryan. I was locked up for a couple years and I miss feeling the breeze against my skin. The vitamin D soaking into my skin..." He paused and stared off before whispering, "Or is that vitamin C...? Shit, Ryan, it doesn't matter! I just...please?" He looked like a child begging for candy, but Ryan knew what Brendon meant.

A soft sigh left Ryan's mouth and he nodded. "You'll have to...pretend to be someone else, though. This whole town knows you and if they miraculously see you they'll... Well, they'll freak out."

A grin spread across Brendon's face and he quickly got up and grabbed a pair of sunglasses from his suitcase along with one of Ryan's old hats. "Is this obviously me?" He asked, tilting his head.

Ryan couldn't help but smile. He genuinely had missed Brendon. He was a ball of sunshine who could always turn a cloudy day into a cloud-free one. Ryan loved that about him. "Yeah," He whispered and walked over, slowly turning the hat so the bill was backwards. Brendon hummed and tilted his head in confusion. "You always wear your hat forward, so wearing it like that will be a little too obvious."

Brendon's mouth formed into an "O" and then into a giant grin. "Can we go to the mall?" He asked, hands clasping in front of his chest and the grin refused to fade.

"Yeah! Why not? Of course!" Ryan said. For once, it felt like maybe things could be normal, at least for a little bit until they had to barricade themselves in the hotel room to hide from Mark.

 _"He's not a bounty hunter, so he shouldn't be able to catch us that easily."_ That's what Brendon had said on the way over to the hotel, leaning back in his seat and almost seeming...absent. It was the best way Ryan could've put it in that moment. Absent. Maybe a bit distant? Absent seemed like a better word.

But either way, he was getting Brendon out a bit. Letting him have human interaction that wasn't just him and the other two. It was something nice.

-

Clothes were an important thing that was necessary. The thing about Brendon was that Mark knew every piece of clothing Brendon owned. Knew his style a bit too well, and he didn't doubt Gray was the same. 

"Ugh, I hate clothes shopping!" Brendon whined, stomping his foot like a bratty child and Ryan didn't roll his eyes because he genuinely had missed this. Hearing Brendon's whining when they went clothes shopping or went to look for new dishes for the kitchen since Brendon broke a lot of them (Ryan loved how clumsy Brendon was, despite spending so much money on new plates and bowls almost monthly). 

"I know, but we need to give you a new style. Gray and Mark know your style and your clothing, so getting new clothes are a top priority. And we should get you contacts. I know the perfect person to do that," Ryan explained, glancing over at his boyfriend who was eyeing a leather jacket. "You like it? You don't usually wear leather jackets."

Brendon stepped towards it, gently taking sleeve into his hand. "Can I try it on?" He asked and glanced back at Ryan curiously. Ryan gestured towards it, grinning. Brendon gently took it off of the hanger and slipped it on before turning to Ryan. "What do you think?"

Ryan looked Brendon up and down, still grinning. "It looks amazing on you. Does it fit?" Brendon gave a nod and turned towards a mirror. Ryan looked at the boy, adoringly. 

Even if he hated Mark and Gray, - and even Dallon at this point - he was glad that Brendon was back. He knew he had to protect him, though. 

And he knew one of the first things to be done for that was to get Brendon clothes and then buy a new car before getting out of the state.

~+~+~+~

"Did you see the guy who attacked you?" The officer asked, looking at Elizabeth curiously.

Elizabeth huffed angrily. "Like I told the others, it was too dark to see him. But he did look familiar... But I couldn't put my finger on who it was. They had a sketch artist come in and do a portrait of what I described, but it didn't look like him. Too dark, I tell you!"

The officer nodded and then wrote it down. "Eye color?"

"Brown... The chocolate brown, but in the lighting it had hints of...gold it seems?"

"What do you determine his height to be?"

"He was a bit taller than me... Maybe...five-eight? Five-nine, at the most?" Elizabeth estimated and then looked at the cop. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Officer Dalton Gibbins," He responded, not making eye contact with Elizabeth as he said it. He gave a smile and then stood. "Well, I hope you feel better soon, Miss Berg." He left the room and pulled out his phone, calling Gray. 

"What is it?" Gray answered, sounding a little annoyed.

"I talked to Elizabeth Berg, trying to see if her 'attacker' was Brendon?" He whispered, walking through the halls and to the main entrance to get to his car.

"And what did you conclude from that, Mark?" There was amusement to his tone.

"Male, brown eyes, and about five-eight or five-nine. The police report I found also had said that he was skinny and looked horrified and for losing his memory and then looking scared, that sounds like him, all right."

Gray hummed. "Go check Ross' house one last night, Mark. Check for evidence."

"Yes, Sir."

~+~+~+~

Gabe was avoiding them now, William was sure of it. He couldn't blame the guy, though. Learning that you died and then somehow came back to life? It would be hard to take in. Gabe had locked himself in the master bedroom, leaving William and Vicky downstairs. 

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Vicky whispered, glancing up the stairs.

"Gabe is strong, Vick. I'm sure he'll be fine, he just needs to...process," William said, giving a dismissive hand gesture because he just really didn't want to talk about it. 

There was a knock on the door, making William jump. "Good fuck, who is at the door?" William whispered and then stood, heading towards the door with quick movements. When he opened the door, he felt pain shoot through his skull and everything becoming black around him. He heard the faint screaming coming from Vicky, not being able to move his body to help her. 

_Someone just got into the house. Get up!_ William screamed at himself.

The screaming ceased and then the sound of boots hitting the stairs rang dully in William's ears before he everything went silent.

~+~+~+~

"What car are we going to get?" Jon asked as he watched Brendon and Spencer playing Monopoly over Ryan's shoulder. 

"Well, Spencer transferred a lot of money over to the card with the fake name...so we could honestly get a nice car," Ryan said, picking as his fingers absently and then glancing over his own shoulders to the other two. "We'll be fine. They'll be fine." He looked at Jon. "You hear me, Jonathan?"

Jon nodded and looked down. "Yeah... Yeah, I hear you. Tomorrow, we'll all get up early and put our stuff in the car. We'll go, find a new car and buy it and then we'll leave your car at the hotel and then leave this joint, alright?"

Ryan nodded and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, that sounds good. We need a good night's rest. We all should stay in this room, though. Together."

"I agree," Jon whispered and then stood, walking over to the other two. He crouched down beside Spencer and grinned, noticing the frustration Spencer was feeling because Brendon was taking all the properties.

"He's cheating! I swear he is!" Spencer whined.

"Or maybe you just suck at Monopoly," Brendon suggested, giving a smug smile.

Spencer huffed and glared at Brendon. "You're not even fucking playing it correctly!" He objected and knocked Brendon's piece off the board.

Brendon started laughing, rolling onto his side and holding his stomach.

"There's a correct way to play Monopoly?" Ryan asked, seeming taken aback by what Spencer just said.

"Yes! Are you too lazy to read the rules Ryan?" Spencer asked, deadpanned.

Ryan laughed. "You got me there... You got me there..."

-

"A good night's rest" is what Ryan wanted, but he laid awake, staring at the ceiling and worrying about the morning. What if Mark already knew where they were and was planning on jumping them as soon as they exited the hotel? What if he was going to be hiding behind the bushes and would shoot them all? He knew all of these thoughts were probably silly and too odd to actually happen, but he was worried.

"You still awake...?" Jon's whisper pierced the blanket of silence hanging over the room.

"Yeah," Ryan whispered back.

"Too nervous to sleep?"

"Yeah..."

Jon laughed softly and then Ryan frowned as Jon whispered, "I am too...because I don't honestly think we'll make it through this..."


	15. 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most recent chapter I just published on Wattpad tonight. Hope you enjoy!

Ryan felt uneasy as he looked at the cars in the lot. Spencer and Brendon were keen on staying near Ryan's car playing a card game. But Ryan felt stressed. Getting a car to get away from the town without the possibility of a spy being around? It made it hard to think straight.

It seemed Jon agreed to that wholeheartedly, glancing over his shoulder and checking on the other two boys who were playing Slap Jack on the hood of the car with a deck of cards Jon had kept in his own car for awhile. 

"We just need to get a car and leave. Soon," Jon said, tapping his foot impatiently. "It doesn't have to be anything fancy, Ry, we just really to get going. Brendon shouldn't be out in the open like this. 

"Yeah, I know... God, I should've just taken an Uber here," Ryan muttered, pushing hair out of his eyes. "How about we get a Jeep? Like, a black Jeep?"

Jon shrugged, indifferent about Ryan's option. "I mean...sure. Black Jeep it is, then?"

Ryan breathed shakily and looked back at the other two, frowning at they were suddenly not paying attention the card game, but instead whispering to each other with their backs to Jon and Ryan. He looked back to Jon and nodded. "Sure."

~+~+~+~

 _Just burn the house down. Lock her in the attic and let the house burn down._ Dallon thought as he stood under the running faucet. He felt sick to his stomach as he saw the blood running down to the drain. It made his own blood feel cold. He knew Breezy was out there, going over every word that had left Dallon's mouth during their "rational conversation" where he felt like he was gonna hurl the entire time. Breezy's tone was, somehow, both cold and concerned at the same time. It made Dallon on edge and scared. Mostly since she had a giant stab wound in her and yet she wasn't dead.

He immediately had known that he made a monster. And, god, did he wish he could take it back right that moment. Make it so he hadn't brought anyone back. 

He stepped out of the shower once he was done, staring at himself in the mirror. His breathing was shaky and he felt like he wanted to claw at the skin on his cheek, still feeling where Breezy touched him ever so lightly after she told him she forgave him. He couldn't get himself to get out of the bathroom, too afraid to face Breezy again as he could hear her pacing in their bedroom; it just made it even more nerve-wracking to him.

Once he finally found the will to move, his nimble fingers wrapped carefully around the gold rounded doorknob before twisting it open, stepping out of the door's way. He was met with the back of Breezy's head as she was now standing almost perfectly still as she peaked out the curtains and onto the street. 

"I don't understand still, Dallon," She whispered, voice hurt. "You knew this was a bad idea, but here we are. You did this and now you can't even stand to sit in the hole that you dug for yourself." She turned around, the curtain falling back into it's original place. "And worst of all, you can't even kill what you've created."

"I didn't know, Breeze," He whispered back, sorrow filling every single word that he let out. "You don't seem to realize that I wasn't thinking. I was desperate!" He clutched to the corners of his towel as his damp feet planted themselves into the carpet. "I admit I shouldn't have tried to kill you, but I don't know what else to do."

Breezy slowly walked over to Dallon who instinctively backed up closer to the dresser, his lower back hitting the edge of it. "Then why don't you just take me back if this is too much to deal with, Dallon?"

Dallon stood there at a loss for words. His bottom lip twitched as he tried to find the right words to say to her, but to no prevail as he lowered his head. He glanced up very slightly, seeing the way Breezy shifted her arms around her own skinny frame. That's when the words came to him.

"Because I couldn't stand seeing you in pain any longer."

~+~+~+~

Ryan's fingers were locked with Brendon's. Hearing his fiance's soft humming beside him was soothing to him, even in this time of horror and fear. Jon was up front driving as Spencer sat in the passenger's seat. They were both pretty silent as the music droned on and filled the car, but all Ryan could hear was Brendon humming to the tune of whatever song was playing then. No matter the song, Brendon easily could figure out the tune and would start humming it even if it was a newer song he's never heard. It amazed Ryan in several ways.

"Your humming is beautiful," Ryan said softly to Brendon who's cheeks immediately went red. It made Ryan's heart flutter in a way that it hadn't in the span of five years. It gave him that sense of love he had craved from Brendon ever since he had died, and there that feeling was again.

"Well, thank you, Ry!" Brendon chimed happily, a grin spreading across his face. And that's when Ryan noticed how Brendon was acting like everything was fine. He was hiding his emotions like he used to before his death, hiding it behind a happy mask. 

Ryan gently squeezed Brendon's hand and whispered softly, "I know you're scared, Brendon. You don't have to act happy just to try and lighten the mood because we're all terrified. You don't have to act strong right now. There is no need."

Brendon's smile fell and he rested his head almost lifelessly on the other's shoulder. "I just don't know what else to do, Ry. I just feel like this is all my fault. If Spencer dies and you and Jon get taken...that's on me."

"You didn't know," Ryan countered, but his voice remained soft to try and keep Brendon calm. "We'll figure this out and get out of this situation, Bee. I promise."

-

The drive into California was speedy for how many shortcuts Jon had found along the way. They found a motel and checked in, Ryan being a bit hesitant to even stay in. They had gotten two rooms and had settled into their respected ones, but Ryan could see Brendon was restless and on-edge suddenly.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Ryan asked, settling down next to him on the edge of the bed.

Brendon was lightly rocking back and forth as his eyes moved quickly around the room before finally meeting with Ryan's honey browns. "I feel like something's just wrong, Ry. Like...I don't understand, but I've just got this really bad feeling in my chest."

Ryan furrowed his eyebrows a little. "Like, a bad feeling that something bad is going to happen?" He questioned while Brendon just shifted his eyes away to look at his shoes. "You have to tell me because I don't know what to do if you don't, Bren."

A silence filled the room for a few minutes as Ryan slowly rubbed comforting circles in the center of the other man's back. He was being patient with Brendon, trying his best to give him time to process it.

"I just feel like something bad going to happen soon... And I know I'm no psychic like Spencer is, but I just have this really bad feeling," Brendon explained and looked at Ryan with big eyes. "I just want everything to be okay. What if we're running for nothing? What if they find us and hurt us?"

Ryan knew he couldn't truly promise that wouldn't happen, and he certainly didn't want to fill Brendon with false hope. So he simply wasn't going to give false hope. "I can't promise that we'll be okay, Brendon. But we have to believe that we will be."

Brendon sighed shakily and nodded, leaning into Ryan's side to suck up some more of the other's warmth. "I love you, Ryan," Brendon whispered, exhaustion showing heavily in his voice.

A smile crept onto Ryan's lips as he slowly pulled Brendon up to lay him down onto the bed, laying beside him. He gently pressed his lips to Brendon's hairline as he whispered back, "I love you too, Brendon."

~+~+~+~

Spencer felt sick. Watching Jon pace around their small motel room was nauseating to watch, but he couldn't find the will to tell him to stop. He just continued to watch.

"You haven't had any new visions?" Jon asked, almost impatiently as his dark eyes looked at Spencer who nearly just flinched from the look, feeling pressured. He just shook his head in response as he pulled his legs up onto the bed.

"I'd tell you if I did, Jon. I feel like something's blocking it. Or maybe I'm just too scared to see the possibilities of what could happen..." Spencer replied. His body was trembling from the anxiety forming inside him.

Jon made a frustrated noise and stopped pacing, pressing his warm and sweaty palms against his forehead. "You can't be scared, Spencer. If you look, we can find out what the hell is going to happen and try to prevent it!" He yelled and then slowly lowered his hands, looking over at Spencer who had tears slowly forming in his eyes. Jon sighed and walked over to Spencer, kneeling down in front of him. "I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to yell," He whispered, gently taking the younger man's hands into his own. "I'm just terrified. I'm terrified I'm going to lose you..."

Spencer stared at Jon, not being able to tear his eyes away from the other man. "I'm terrified too, you know," He whispered in response. "But sometimes when I'm terrified, my visions can get blocked. But I'll keep trying, alright?"

"Just get some rest and try again in the morning," Jon said, standing up and pressing a soft kiss onto the top of Spencer's head.

~+~+~+~

Brendon laid there, pressed against Ryan's chest. Warmth enveloped him invitingly and he accepted every little ounce of heat he could receive for his freezing body. His eyes wandered Ryan's face as the other slept, counting his eyelashes carefully to not miss a single lash.

Anxiety was filling Brendon, not leaving him alone and definitely not going away and it bothered him greatly as the darkness filled the room except for the sliver of moonlight that was coming in from the window and through the curtains of the shitty motel window in their shitty motel room.

In seconds, Brendon felt like his blood froze over and his body became still. He looked over his shoulder towards the window, his heart beating faster, it aching and yelling that something just had to be wrong. "Ry-Ryan..." Brendon whispered, whipping his head back towards the other. "W-wake up!"

Ryan's eyes opened carefully, his hand immediately going to rub at Brendon's back. "What's wrong?" He whispered. 

"I-I think something's wr-wrong..." Brendon responded, his voice shaky and sounding shot as he spoke.

"I don't think anything is wrong, Bee. You're just a bit paranoid right now, okay?" Ryan's hand continued to run shapes on the back of the other's back. It comforted Brendon in way's he never thought he could be comforted. "Just go to sleep and in the morning, you'll see everything is fine, okay?"

Brendon was hesitant, and he was sure that it showed, but instead he just nodded and firmly pressed himself against Ryan. "Okay," He whispered before he noticed Ryan had already fallen back asleep. Brendon breathed shakily and he gently pressed his forehead against Ryan's chest.

-

Brendon was awoken by banging on the door, his eyes shooting open as he realized Ryan had woken up seconds before him and was already looking out the peephole. The door flung open. "Jon, what the hell is wrong?!" Ryan nearly snarled. Brendon looked at the clock and noticed it was seven in the morning.

Jon's eyes were panicked and his face was paled. "Spencer's gone..."


	16. 15.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. So quick trigger warning. This involves a shooting so if that makes you uncomfortable or may trigger you, just skip over this part. There isn't any mention of blood or gore and I don't describe any of the deaths. It just involves a shooting. The end is a bit dark and I even debated not even posting it. But...here it is. Chapter 16 is going up only seconds after this part, so just go read that if you wanna skip this. Wattpad readers didn't have this choice, sadly. But enjoy.

_My mind felt like whirlwind as I sat beside Ryan, checking his temperature as cold shivers tiptoed across my skin, greeting me with an uneasy presence. "Are you sure I can still go...? I've never done a show without you, Ry," I say. I know my voice is filled with anxiety and every single word leaves a door open into my soul for Ryan to look through, but he doesn't mention it._

_"It's a big show, baby," Ryan says as a ghost of a smirk appears on his face. "I'll be here when you get back and we can maybe mess around a bit." He winks which makes me immediately blush as I stand, grossing my arms loosely over my chest._

_"I don't know... I think you're to sick to stick your dick up my ass tonight," I tease as I grin. He lets out a short huff and smiles, slowly grabbing my warm hand into his clammy one. "Are you sure...?" I whisper as the frown finally takes back over my face. "I don't want you to be here sick and alone while I'm out having a blast. Plus, I'll be worried sick the whole time."_

_Ryan laughs and presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. "Don't ever let me hold you back, Bee. Go perform. Have fun! I'll be here when you get back. I always am."_

_I watch him for a moment, hesitance in my movements as I slowly lean down and press a kiss to his cheek. "Alright. Fine. You win," I whisper. I stand up and grab my jacket that's thrown over the arm of the couch._

-

_Something in my brain the whole drive there was telling me to turn back. I remember fondly what Jon told me as I could nearly feel his nervous glances towards Spencer through the phone. According to him, Spencer had a bad vision something bad was going to happen at the sound check or the show tonight, but Jon didn't seem concerned about it, so I'm not concerned about it._

_I told Ryan who just gave me a short nervous look before just shrugging and said he couldn't come up with a good response considering Jon wasn't worried, so he wasn't worried either._

_But now I was having these thoughts, nearly screaming at me to just turn around and call the whole show off. But I didn't turn around. I didn't call the whole thing off. Because I just can't. I worked too hard for this night._

_I take even breaths and tell myself it's okay because Spencer's visions have been wrong so many times lately that no one was concerned about it. So I simply decide to not be concerned either._

-

_The feeling gets worse as I'm up on the stage doing soundcheck. My heart is slamming against my ribs anxiously and my skin has goosebumps over every little inch. I feel uneasy and something in my brain is still yelling at me to just run through the backstage and run back to my house, but my feet stay planted in the same spot._

_I can tell my voice is wavering a lot more than usual from the looks Pete is giving me from the edge of the stage, but he doesn't say anything about it and just continues to watch._

_The doors open and suddenly the cold feeling sweeps completely over my body and I freeze. A reflection off of the object the person is holding nearly blinds me, but I instinctively move backwards. I hear a loud BANG! and suddenly Pete's form is no longer sitting on the edge of the stage. My hearing is muffled, but I can still hear the sounds of screams faintly._

_I drop to my knees right before another BANG! fills the arena._

_"Brendon!" I hear someone yell, muffled by my pained eardrums. "Brendon, run!"_

_My hands press against the ground, pushing myself off before I take off backstage. Beads of sweat are rolling down my forehead, rushed breaths hurriedly leaving my mouth in attempt to keep myself going._

_Another BANG! is heard._

_Following following following._

_I feel a hand grab my wrist and pull me between a bunch of trunks. I nearly scream, but a hand claps over my mouth immediately._

_"Brendon, it's just me! Calm down!" Gabe rushes out, his eyes wide and wild looking as he searches over my face. My face doesn't calm, though. My body is trembling against his torso and legs and adrenaline is pumping like lava in my veins._

_"Wh-what are we going to do?" I whisper, groping at my pockets to try and remember if I even brought my phone with me onto the stage for soundcheck._

_No, I didn't._

_Gabe lets out a shaky sigh and cranes his neck as another BANG! echoes through the halls, more screams being released. I flinch and twist my body so I can hide my face against Gabe's neck. "They're getting close..." Gabe whispers, tension in his voice which does not put me at ease. The footsteps draw nearer, my body unintentionally tensing._

_Closer closer closer._

_A kiss presses to my temple as suddenly I'm moved to the cold concrete ground. "Stay here. I'll draw him away. Don't you dare move, Brendon. Okay? Wait until he's gone and then get out of here and get somewhere with a phone. Call the police, call Ryan. You'll make it out of this."_

_"What about you?!" I start sobbing, the adrenaline pumping harder and faster and suddenly this is feeling too real and I want to get out._

_Gabe smiles sadly. "Don't worry about me okay. Just...if I don't make it out of this, tell Bilvy I love him." Without letting me get another word in, he gets up and runs, making sure his footsteps are loud and noticeable._

_I press myself firmly against the trunk closest to the wall, making sure I can't be seen. The footsteps pass by me and another BANG! is released, making my eardrums ache even more. My body trembles as two more bullets are released and tears rush like waterfalls down my flushed cheeks._

_As soon as the bangs and the footsteps begin to get quieter, I slip out from between the trunks and start running the opposite way down the hallway, but closer to a big garage space where all the equipment for the lights and platforms are. I hear another bang before it all goes quiet. I stop in my place, listening for footsteps even though there is no sound. I look around quickly for exits, but all of them are locked from the outside, not letting me escape this prison._

_My feet pivot as I run out from the garage space and back to the stage, my feet growing tired. Something whizzes by my ear, making me trip as I fall nearly face-first onto the stage. Harsh pants leave my mouth as I turn my head to look at the shooter. My eyes widen as I flip onto my ass, desperately pushing myself away. Within seconds, a bullet is in my leg._

_"Wh-why are you doing this?!" I wail, dropping onto my back, feeling the cold stage through my t-shirt._

_"Because, Brendon... I'm sick of you. So fucking sick of you. You get everything you want," He hisses, kneeling down to get a better look at me._

_"Y-you killed people!" I scream, more tears escaping my red eyes. "Y-you didn't have to kill them!"_

_He laughs and stands, shrugging at me like it's nothing and my stomach lurches. "I didn't. But it's fun. I know what you probably think of me, Brendon. You, Mom, Dad...they all know it and you all think it. I'm an insane sadist." He presses his boot against my chest. "But no more..."_

_"Gray, stop! Please!" I wail, trying to push his foot off my chest._

_Gray smirks and I know what he sees. He sees a rat squirming under his boot. But I don't stop until the last bang._

_Then all I can feel is the cold._


	17. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very proud of this chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy it too.

_Brendon stands there, mouth opened as his body is filled with this chilled feeling that makes him want to run. His eyes move ever so slowly to gather his surroundings as the whole world just felt like it was crumbling at his feet. The yelling and screaming was muffled, barely a sound processing through his head. His heels dug into the dirt as he slowly turned and walked away._

~+~+~+~

Mark felt frustrated. Absolutely frustrated and pissed at Gray for putting him on this mission. It felt wrong to him on so many levels, but another part of him simply just didn't care. This mission obviously was a big deal and an even more gigantic factor of survival for the company. But killing a person because they posed a "threat" even though he could just be deemed as crazy and not believed? It felt a little odd to Mark, to say the least.

But he was not a fool. Their plans were carefully thought out, he had to admit, but they didn't try to cover their tracks well enough. He knew where they were and immediately he had to contact Gray. His head was nearly spinning from the fear settling in his chest as Gray's cold voice spoke, but he remained silent until Gray had stopped talking.

"I found them. All you need to do it somehow get a way to get Spencer away from the others," Mark said, his fingers twitching around his burner phone. He could faintly hear the sound of Gray's nails tapping against his mahogany desk. "What, do you not have any ideas?" He nearly snapped this time. How would you possibly get a psychic guy away from three people who were probably watching him like a hawk. 

"You need me, don't you?" Gray said in a teasing tone, but a bitterness was lingering as well. "I'll be there in an hour since you're so incapable of doing a simple task by yourself. Should I bring some of my men too, while I'm at it?"

Mark clenched his jaw and let out a huff. "A few of your men wouldn't hurt, Gray. Considering you turned out brother into a _fucking war weapon,_ he could snap our necks with a simple turn of his fucking head."

There was a silence before Gray started chuckling. "Mark, Mark...always _whining,_ Mark." 

The line went dead.

~+~+~+~

Dallon walked along the side of the road, not even knowing where he was heading at that point. Just "away" was a good term. He was going away. He had dropped Ameile and Knox off at his parents' house after school and then just walked.

_"Please keep them in your care for awhile," Dallon said softly, his eyes hiding something as he looked at his mother who looked puzzled._

_"But...why, Dallon? What is so important that you need us to watch them for a few months?" Mrs. Weekes begged her son to answer, but he remained to giving no response. "Where are you going, Dallon? Please at least just tell me that!"_

_Dallon didn't know where he was planning to go. He just planned to walk and walk until nothing was left in his soul, but that wasn't a place. That wasn't an answer his mother wanted, but he wasn't sure if that answer would cause more panic or not._

_"Just...away."_

And away he was going. He could feel the nagging ringing in his pocket, but was trying his best to ignore it. But after it'd stop buzzing for about ten seconds, it'd start buzzing again against his thigh.

He finally let out an angered huff and ripped his phone out, answering the call. "Mom, I swear to fucking God, just stop asking me questions!" He barked, agitated.

"Dallon..." His voice came through the phone, his usual voice turned lost and drained. "We need your help. Right now."

~+~+~+~

The room was silent and cold against his skin, his fingers twitching as his palms were pressed firmly to the floor. "Let me out!" William shouted, his heart racing and hammering against his rib cage. He didn't know where he was. All he remembered was the darkness around him and hearing Gabe yelling angrily before silence. 

A pain formed on his arm almost instantly, quickly looking down to notice the band-aid put on his skin loosely. His fingers picked at it gently before pulling it off and revealing a small hole where a needle must've been hours prior. He looked back at the door. "Let me out of here!" He tried again, voice hoarse. 

He slowly pushed himself to his knees and crawled to the door to slap his palm against the metal weakly. "You can't do this! Where the hell am I?!" Tears started welling in his eyes as the fear returned which caused the painful pounding of his heart against his ribs to get worse. A sweat broke down his forehead. "Let me, Gabe, and Victoria go! Please!" He begged even though he knew it was no use.

"Go to the other side of the room and put your self against the wall. Now," A voice said bitterly through the room.

William didn't move, his palm pressed harder against the door. "Where the hell did you take me?!" He yelled, looking all around the room for a camera. Once he saw it, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "You can't fucking do this!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Beckett, but we did do this. And now that you know at least a little bit about this nonsense our lead scientist started, we can't let you go. You'd tell everyone," The voice said, sounding bored. "Now fucking listen to what I ordered you to fucking do, Beckett."

"No..." William whispered, sinking further down on his knees. "Just no."

A thick silence filled the room before a soft humming was there. 

"Just drop it," Another voice beckoned, a hint of amusement hidden in the words. William's body suddenly felt frozen, recognizing that voice but not remembering from where, but he couldn't get another word out as a panel of the ceiling opened, dropping a can into the room. 

William quickly retreated into the corner before the gas was released, but it was no use. He breathed in the fumes as his eyes became droopy and his body felt weak. Within seconds, he was out of it.

~+~+~+~

_Ryan felt odd as he sat in bed, staring at the blank TV that had nothing on. He kept looking at the phone, not wanting to believe what day it was because it felt like some cruel joke. But it was April 12th and it was Brendon's birthday. It made Ryan feel frustrated and angry, but he didn't go on his urges of punching the wall or throwing the lamp against the TV so they'd both shatter into pieces._

_He just stayed still._

_All he could think about was how he would usually get up and make Brendon an omelette with shredded mozzarella cheese, cheese dressing, green peppers, and diced tomatoes. It was Brendon's favorite and every year Ryan would make it for him. But this year was different._

_Brendon was dead and gone, buried six feet underground and no longer aged. It made Ryan feel horrible, but he couldn't just magically bring his fiance back from the dead. That just wasn't possible._

_As he finally slowly got out from his bed, his body ached a little bit (probably from the tossing and turning from the all the nightmares), but he still managed to get out of the room and down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out all the ingredients and a pan._

_"I'm sorry, babe, I didn't forget, I promise," He said into the empty air as he began cooking the omelette that in the back of his mind he knew would just end up sitting at Brendon's spot at the table cold and later molding from Ryan not having the energy to clean it up._

_He looked behind him, seeing the form of his fiance sitting at the table looking excited as ever. "You know, I love how you make them," The hallucination said, grinning widely. "I still remember the first time you made them for me. Do you remember that?"_

_Ryan smiled almost painfully as he listened to his fiance's voice, but yet he wasn't there. "I remember, baby. I made them on our first Christmas together and after that you demanded I made them on your birthday every year until I'm pissing and shitting into an adult diaper. Which, I still think won't happen."_

_Brendon laughed and Ryan couldn't help but turn to see the beautiful grin across his loved one's face. "You do remember, huh? Not surprising," He teased. His smile dropped a little, Ryan still watching. "One day you'll stop this, won't you?"_

_"Stop what?" Ryan asked, voice soft and pain-filled. Brendon just stared at him, sadness covering his beautiful features. Ryan hated when Brendon was sad. "Brendon... Stop what?"_

_"This," Brendon whispered, gesturing towards Ryan. "One day on April twelfth of every year, you'll stop this. Stop making an omelette for me because I'm dead. Maybe even next year you'll get over the pain and stop. One day you won't do it anymore, Ry."_

_Ryan shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut before turning back to the pan and finishing the omelette. "No. I'll never stop doing this, and do you know why?" Brendon just stared at him. "Because to me, it's still a tradition and I'll always make it for you even though you're not here. Because I love you..." He turned to look at Brendon, but he was gone._

~+~+~+~

Brendon's heart was pounding hard as he ran with Jon and Ryan, his thoughts racing at a million miles per hour. He felt like he could collapse, but he stayed upright, his feet moving quickly through the uncut grass in the forest. 

"Where is he?!" Jon yelled through gritted teeth, stopping his movements to look around. "What if they lured him out? What if he's dead?!"

"Jon, calm the fuck down," Ryan said, trying to keep his composure even though it was very obvious he was freaking out too. "He might've seen a vision and just wandered off. It's happened before and you know this. We'll find him."

Brendon looked around and started walking away from the two, his feet just carrying him without him knowing where he was exactly going. 

"Brendon?" Ryan called after him, watching him with big eyes. "Brendon, why are you wandering off? Get back here, please!" He begged. When he realized Brendon wasn't going to listen, he started running after him, Jon following quickly. 

Jon was confused, looking between Brendon and the direction they were going. "Where the hell is he going? It's like he's a moth following light."

Ryan looked at Jon, almost puzzled. "If he's the moth, what's the light? Spencer, possibly?"

"Or...something bad..." Jon hesitated to say, looking at Ryan with worry in his eyes. "What if the facility has some sort of control over Brendon?"

"They would've used it a long time ago if they did, Jon. I just think Brendon feels something," Ryan whispered and looked at Brendon who was suddenly gone. "Brendon?!" Ryan yelled and began running until they got into a slight clearing. 

Brendon stood there, breathing hitched and going faster. "No..." He whispered, body shaking. "No!"


End file.
